


Heaven Goes to Hell

by MollyMonster



Series: Angels, Demons, and TV Shows [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:17:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8024131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyMonster/pseuds/MollyMonster
Summary: It's been a year since the Grace Crisis, and things are going well. Lucy, Sam, and Dean are hunting, and Lucy and Cas's relationship has never been better. But then Lucy starts getting odd feelings, as though someone- or something- is watching her. This is a sequel to "Angels, Demons, and TV Shows."





	1. Why Do People Always Move To Rickety Old Houses in the Middle of Nowhere?

“So what’s the plan here?”

Dean glanced back towards me from the driver’s seat of the impala, then over to Sam.

“Well, Sam and I are going in pretending to be insurance agents. Which means you’ll have to keep out of sight.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll snoop around outside.”

“Fine.” Dean looked unhappy as he guided the car around a bend in the road. “Keep in mind we’ll probably be out there at some point with the family, and they got a little kid. Little kids like to run around.”

“Basically be careful,” Sam reiterated.

I nodded. “I know, I know. How long have we been doing this?”

It was a rhetorical question. I knew the answer. I had been hunting with the boys for a little over a year since the Grace Crisis, making it about a year and a half since we had started working together. Currently we were investigating a haunted house somewhere in Alabama, where a family of four lived out in the middle of nowhere in a rickety old house.

Really; a rickety old house in the middle of nowhere. What were they thinking?

They’d been getting for the most part minor experiences with whoever was lingering in their house. The thing was though, the patterns were random. Sometimes things would be getting knocked over, other times the ghost would neatly stack every jar in the cabinets. 

That wasn’t at the top of our worries though. The other day a repairman had come to fix a leak in the roof, and somehow all the screws in his ladder had come loose. The man had ended up in the hospital with a broken arm and spine.

The official report was blaming it on the ladder. Apparently it was rusty and old, and coincidentally several friends had warned the repairman over the past year that the thing was gonna give. The boys and I knew better.

Dean turned into the driveway. It was long and curving, leading up to a large house. Two stories, with a wraparound porch on the front. Ivy was climbing up the side by the chimney, and bits of white paint still clung to some of the wooden boards of the house. Three large pillars on the front porch held up an overhang, and ivy climbed up these as well. Once, long ago and well painted, I imagined the house had been beautiful. Now it was just sad and a little bit creepy looking.

“Ok.” Dean parked the car, glancing around us. “We’ll probably start inside, so you should have some time to snoop around outside. Keep an ear open though.”

I nodded. “Got it.”

Sam and Dean nodded, then they slipped out of the car and made their way up the steps of the porch. Sam knocked twice, and I ducked down in the impala. A moment later a woman came to the door, exchanged a few words with Sam and Dean, and led them inside. She didn’t see me.

I slid from the car, glancing up at the sky as I went. It was early evening, the sky just beginning to darken with streaks of pink and purple in the west, highlighting the fading sun. 

I took a moment to breathe in the fresh air and then started around the house, edging carefully and quietly. As I went I pulled my EMF detector from my pocket, plugging in the earbuds and holding it ready. 

At the back of the house was an old shed, even grungier looking than the house. I took a moment to make sure no one was outside or looking outside from the house, then jogged quickly across the wide yard. 

It was an easy matter to pick the lock on the shed. I probably could have just broken it if I’d wanted to; it looked about ready to break on its own. 

Inside the shed was a tractor and several toys for a little kid, all looking, surprise, surprise, ready to fall apart. The bike in the corner needed to have one of its chains replaced, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hack my way through the thick blanket of cobwebs to get to the wooden box in the back. Leaning forward though I could just see inside; the box contained sports equipment. Baseball balls and gloves, basketballs, soccer balls, even a couple of footballs. A pair of baseball bats was leaning against the side of the little box, one about the right size for a grown man, the other just big enough for a little boy.

The EMF needle had been spiking the entire time I was on the property, and it didn’t rise any higher while I was in the shed. I sighed and left, fitting the lock back onto the door. A moment later I heard footsteps approaching, and with a curse hurried behind the shed, out of sight of the house.

“I’m sorry,” said the woman; Mrs. Frea if I remembered correctly. “I’m still not sure why you need to look at my entire house.”

“We need to look over the entire house to see what sort of condition it’s in,” answered Sam. “Just to make sure there weren’t any other contributing factors to Mr. Berth’s fall.”  
Peering around the side of the shed, I could just see Mrs. Frea gulp nervously, obviously thinking she had an oncoming lawsuit to deal with. I took a moment to examine her. She was a bit chubby but still pretty, with dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and big brown eyes. From around her hip peeked a little boy of about eight, gazing curiously at Sam and Dean. He had the same hair and eyes as his mother, though I guessed that his reed thin physique came from his father.

“And this is the last thing you need to see?” Mrs. Frea asked.

“Yep,” affirmed Dean. “Then we’ll be out of your hair.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if the relieved look that flashed across the woman’s face had anything to do with a fear of her latest house guests being targeting by her undead one. Either way she nodded and closed the back door to the house behind her, guiding her son into the next room. 

Sam and Dean walked slowly towards me, and after checking to make sure no one else was around I emerged from my hiding place.

“Anything?” asked Sam.

I shook my head. “Not much. There’s a bit of EMF, but I’m guessing whatever’s going on here is focused inside.”

“Yeah,” said Dean. “This thing was going crazy.” He held up his own EMF detector, then started walking slowly around the shed. “You head back to the car, Sam and I will hang out here for a minute and make it look like we’re doing something.”

I chuckled and nodded, slipping easily back to the impala. About five minutes later Sam and Dean were back, waving to the curtain that twitched in the front window as they clambered into the car.

“Now what?” I asked as we pulled onto the main road. 

“Now we go to the hospital, see if the repairman noticed anything useful,” said Sam. “While we’re there can you head back to the motel and start researching the house?”

“Sure.”

Sam and Dean dropped me off at the motel before heading to the hospital, and I grabbed Sam’s computer from the room he was sharing with Dean. Bringing it back to my room, I sighed as I curled up on one of the beds. As I waited for the computer to log on I pulled my phone out of my pocket, checking for messages from Cas.

Nothing.

He had left a few days ago, feeling a need to check in on heaven and make sure everything was going well. I’d made him promise me to call every night, and so far he’d kept his word.

I sighed. I was impatient, not to mention severely missing my boyfriend. He’d spent the majority of his time over the past year with me, and neither of us was used to the separation. 

As the computer finished loading I tossed my phone to the side, pulling up the internet. A quick search on the house pulled up an article from about thirty years ago, about a man who had killed himself there.

His name had been Robert Unthur. A mechanic just inside town, he hadn’t made much money. The only reason he could live in such a big house was that he had inherited it from his parents. With him lived his wife Valerie and his son Will.

A month before Robert had hung himself his wife and son had up and vanished. No one knew where they had gone. All they knew was that Robert came home one night to an empty house. All of his wife’s and son’s things had been cleaned out and they were gone. No note, nothing. She hadn’t even left her wedding ring.

So maybe it was Robert who was haunting the house. I did a quick search on him; he was buried in the local cemetery. The boys and I could easily burn his bones once they got from the hospital.

It didn’t take long for that to happen. About a half hour later they came through the door, loosening their ties and grabbing beers. I chuckled as they started to sprawl into the chairs at the little table in the corner of the room.

“Not yet,” I said. “We’ve got to burn a body.”

“You found our ghost?” asked Sam.

I nodded and showed them the computer. “I think so. He’s the only person who’s died there, so it makes sense.”

Dean nodded slowly, skimming through the article. 

“What about you guys?” I asked. “What’d Mr. Berth tell you?”

Sam sighed. “Nothing much. The air got a bit cold, then suddenly his ladder collapsed out from under him.”

“So he didn’t see the ghost?” I asked.

Sam shook his head, then took the computer from Dean and started reading. When he finished he stood and downed his beer, starting for the door.

“Let us get changed quick, then we’ll meet you at the car.”

I nodded and grabbed my jacket, and ten minutes later we were pulling into a drive through. We ate in the parking lot, taking our time as we waited for the sun to finish setting. Then, once night had completely fallen, we made our way to the cemetery.

The downside to insisting that I work cases was that Dean made me help dig. He manned the flashlight as Sam and I set to work, and I took care to throw my shovelfuls of dirt his way.

After setting fire to the bones we lingered for a few minutes to make sure they continued to burn, then hurried from the graveyard. We knew sooner or later someone would notice the little campfire we’d started, and we didn’t want to be around when the cops showed up.

I was just getting out of the shower in my motel room when my phone buzzed, and with a wide grin I grabbed it.

“Hey Angel Dust,” I greeted.

Cas’s chuckle was low and happy. “Hello,” he responded. “How are you?”

I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “Fine. We just wrapped up a case. What about you? How’s heaven doing?”

“Heaven’s fine.” Cas let out an almost inaudible sigh. “I miss you.”

I smiled. “I miss you too. How much longer do you have to stay there?”

“Another day or two. Then I’m all yours.”

“Cool. I can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

For a moment we both were silent, and I put the phone on speaker so I could continue to talk to Cas as I got dressed. 

“Are you heading back to the bunker next?” asked Cas.

“I’m not sure. It depends on if we find another case to work. I’ll know by the morning.”

“Let me know,” Cas said. He let out a huff of breath, and I could imagine him finding a quiet place to sit and talk to me undisturbed. “I really don’t enjoy the politics,” he stated. “I wish that would go away.”

I laughed lightly. “Sorry. You should have given me more time to mess with stuff.”

Cas was silent for a moment, and I knew we were both thinking back to the Grace Crisis and whatever I had become in those moments. It was still, even after so much time, a delicate subject to broach. 

“I’m fine,” I reminded him. “Perfectly fine.”

Cas sighed on the other end of the phone. “I know,” he said. “Still, I worry. What happened, it was- it never should have happened.”

I settled back on my bed, curling up under the covers. “Maybe, but it did and there’s not much we can do about it. At least we got some good out of the whole thing.”

“True.” 

I could hear the frown in Cas’s voice, and knew he was still unhappy.

“I just don’t like that you were put in that position to begin with. I should have kept you safe.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t even start. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Let’s not forget who pulled who out of a river.”

I grimaced even as I spoke; the memory of Cas’s near death still rubbed me the wrong way. Now it was Cas’s turn to reassure me.

“I survived,” he reminded. “We’re both fine.”

“I know.” I chuckled. “Our lives are so messed up.”

Cas laughed. “They are,” he agreed. “But I wouldn’t have things any other way.”

I smiled. “Me neither.”

There was another pause, and then Cas sighed. “I should go,” he said. “I need to get back to heaven.”

“Call me tomorrow?”

“Of course. Goodnight Lucy.”

“Night Cas.”

I flipped the phone shut, then plugged it in and curled up on my side. I was exhausted, and the pillows under my head were feeling pretty comfy. I was moments away from sleep when there was a knock on my door.

“What?” I moaned. 

“Lucy, it’s Sam, open up!”

I groaned. “I’m trying to sleep!”

“We’ve got a problem!”

I scowled as I pushed myself up, slowly making my way to the door. “Damn right we have a problem,” I called. “I’m trying to—”

I froze as I swung open the door. Sam’s face was flushed, and he was breathing heavily.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“The ghost,” Sam panted. “I don’t know if we had the wrong person or if it’s not being kept here by the bones, but it’s not done yet. It hurt someone else.”

I cursed and shot back inside, grabbing my jacket and phone. “Who?” I asked. “What happened?” My mind flashed to the little boy I’d glimpsed that day.

 _Don’t let it be him,_ I thought. _Please not him._

Sam shut the door to my room behind me as we bolted for the car, which Dean was already putting into gear. “The daughter, Mia, she had her boyfriend over. The ghost knocked him down the stairs.”

I winced as I climbed into the impala. “Is he alright?”

Dean glanced back at me, eyes dark and unreadable. “He’s dead.”


	2. Friend

The drive out to the Freas’ house was spent in a terse silence, during which I found myself gnawing at my nails. I racked over the case in my head, trying to figure out what I had missed. Was something else holding Robert Unther here or was it someone else entirely? Maybe it was a Tulpa. What had I missed?

I had absolutely no idea what, but I did know one thing. My mistake had cost someone their life. Some boy probably about my age was dead, and that was on me.

Sam glanced back as my breathing started to get heavier, and a concerned look flashed across his face.

“Lucy. Hey, Lucy. This isn’t your fault.”

I slanted him a disbelieving look. “Yes it is,” I argued.

“No it’s not,” said Sam. “We all agreed on what was going on, we all missed- whatever it is we missed. Alright?”

I pressed my lips together in a thin line, and I shook my head ever so slightly. Sam could say what he wanted. I’d been the one who’d done the research, who’d stopped at the first possible person and decided it must be him. It was my lack of effort that had led to the mistake.

Dean used the rearview mirror to glance back at me. “Do you want to head back to the motel?” he asked. “You don’t have to come with us; Sam and I can take this one alone.”

I shook my head. “No, I need to do this. You know that.”

Dean sighed and averted his eyes; he did know that.

A few minutes later the headlights of the impala fell on the house. It looked exactly the same as it had earlier that day; old and dilapidated, with ivy crawling up the walls. Except now there was yellow police tape stretched across the front door.

“How long ago did he die?” I asked. “Actually, tell me everything you know, cos I don’t know much.”

Dean shrugged. “Neither do we. I was listening in on the police radio when I heard them mention it. All I heard was that the kid fell down the stairs. Was pronounced dead on scene.”

I gulped. “Kid?”

Sam slanted a glare sideways to Dean. “Yeah,” he said. “The daughter Mia is seventeen, so the boyfriend was probably the same age.”

I nodded and glanced away, mouthing the word _was_ to myself. It was funny how easily Sam and Dean were able to refer to someone with that term, like the fact that they no longer existed was insignificant. To me it still felt surreal, wrong.

“You ok?” asked Dean.

I nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Both Sam and Dean looked disbelieving, but as I was already climbing out of the car they didn’t have much choice but to follow. We hurried to the back of the impala, sticking rock salt guns and angel blades in our belts. The blades, we’d learned, worked on everything, including ghosts.

When Mrs. Frea opened the front door it was with a scared, exhausted expression. Her eyes focused on Sam and Dean and she blinked rapidly, taking a few moments to recognize them without the suits they’d been wearing earlier.

“Mr. Bennet. Mr. Harvey. What are you doing here?” she asked.

Dean smiled. “Yeah… about that. We’re not who we said we were.”

Mrs. Frea frowned. “What do you mean? Who’s this?” She spotted me for the first time, hovering anxiously behind Sam and Dean.

Sam sighed. “Mrs. Frea, would you mind if we all stepped inside for a minute?”

Her eyes flickered back inside her house nervously, and she ran her tongue over her lips to wet them. “I don’t think that’s possible,” she said. “We were just leaving.”

The boys and I exchanged looks.

“Sorry,” apologized Dean. He gave a small shove against the front door, and with a yelp of surprise Mrs. Frea stumbled back. We pushed our way inside the house, and I saw that stacked just by the door were several suitcases.

“Going somewhere?” I asked.

“A motel.” 

I glanced up to see Mr. Frea approaching. He was a lanky man dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, the house lights above him glinting off the large bald spot on the top of his head. He came to stand behind his wife, placing his hands on her shoulders. 

“Our house is a crime scene. We were asked by the police to find a motel to stay in for the time being. Who’re you?”

Sam stepped forward. “I’m Sam,” he explained. “This is my brother Dean and my sister Lucy.” He ignored the questioning glances I got from the couple; we were used to people doubting us based on my skin color. “We’re here to help.”

Mr. Frea gulped. “Help with what?” he asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb. We know about Casper the not so friendly ghost.”

Mr. and Mrs. Freas’ eyes widened, and they exchanged nervous looks. 

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” stuttered Mrs. Frea. “I really must ask you to go.” She tried to move to the door, but a vase flew off a nearby table, smashing against the wall inches away from her head. She screamed and leapt back, and Sam, Dean, and I drew our guns, sweeping our eyes over the living room. Nothing was there.

“I suppose you’re gonna try and say that was some weather anomaly or something,” Dean stated. “Don’t bother. We’ve heard all the excuses. That,” and here he pointed to where shards of the vase were littering the floor. “Is not natural.”

“It’s Supernatural,” I muttered. I couldn’t help a small feeling of glee at my own inside joke, but no one else seemed to find it funny. 

“Fine. Fine.” Mr. Frea began pacing back and forth. “So it is. Supernatural, or whatever you want to call it. We need to get out of here before it hurts anyone else!”

Sam shook his head. “It won’t,” he promised. “That’s why we’re here.” He gestured imploringly to the couch, and after a moment Mr. and Mrs. Frea sat. 

“Where are your kids?” I asked. I frowned; surely the sound of the vase breaking should have drawn them downstairs.

“They’re packing,” answered Mrs. Frea. 

I nodded. “I’ll go get them. They should know what’s going on.”

Before anyone could respond I hurried up the stairs, eager to escape the explanation Sam was about to give. I didn’t need to listen to my failure being described.  
The first room on the right at the top of the stairs was open, empty. I assumed it had been Mr. and Mrs. Freas’. The one on the left led to a small bathroom, and I moved quickly past. The next room I got to was on the right side of the hallway as well, the door shut and music pounding from within.

I knocked, but when no one said anything I frowned and pushed open the door. A teenage girl with blonde hair was standing at the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the wall. Tears were running down her cheeks, but her sobs were- for now- silent. I guessed that was why she’d put on the music. So that no one would hear her crying.

I knocked again on the now open door, and this time she heard me. Mia gave a small frightened sound and backed away, automatically searching her room for something she could use as a weapon. Unless she was planning on clobbering me with tiny cellphone on her nightstand, she didn’t have many options.

I held up my hands anyway, putting a placating smile on my face. “It’s ok,” I reassured her. “It’s alright. I’m Lucy. My brothers are downstairs with your parents. We’re here to help.”

Mia relaxed slightly, but still eyed me warily. “Help with what?” she asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Come on. We both know what’s going on here. There’s a ghost hanging around your house, and you need it to leave. That’s where we come in.”  
Mia gulped, her already big blue eyes growing bigger. “You- you can do that?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, we can. But I need you and your brother to come downstairs. It makes things easier if everyone is in the loop.”

Mia nodded and started to brush past me, but I grabbed her arm to stop her. “I know this must be hard,” I whispered. “All this.” I waved an arm around to indicate her uninvited house guest and all its havoc, and both our gazes went to the stairs. “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t mean much; it won’t bring back- back—”

Oh god. I didn’t even know his name. Mia’s boyfriend had died because of me, and I didn’t even know who he was. I gulped, a guilty flush overtaking my face, and beside me Mia stiffened.

“Danny,” she said. “His name was Danny. Danny Briant.” She sniffled, tears welling to her eyes again. “It’s my fault,” she moaned. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

I shook my head. “No it isn’t.” I sighed and took her hand, leading her slowly back to her bed. As much as I hated it, I needed to explain things to Mia myself. “It’s my fault.”

Mia looked at me in confusion, so I rushed to continue. “I did some research, and I found someone who I thought was the ghost. He was buried in the local cemetery, so earlier tonight my brothers and I went and burned the body. It’s how you get rid of a ghost.”

Mia shook her head. “I don’t understand. If you killed it then…”

I sighed. “I must’ve been wrong. I don’t know if there’s something else holding him here, something in the house maybe, or maybe even the house itself. Or he might not even be the ghost. All I know is that I jumped to conclusions; I was wrong. It’s my fault Danny is dead.”

I had to force Danny’s name past a lump in my throat. The name made him that much more of a person, that much more real. It was a stabbing reminder of what my inefficiency had cost. I was forced to blink back my own tears and glance away from Mia, afraid of what I would see in her eyes.

“No.” She took my hand again- I hadn’t even realized I’d pulled out of her grasp. “It’s not your fault.” She took a deep breath, sounding like she was still on the verge of crying. “You guys are the best, right? The best at what you do? If you missed it, whatever it is, no one else would have seen it. It wasn’t your fault.”

I bit my lip. While I was sure Sam and Dean were the best hunters out there, I wasn’t so sure about myself. I decided not to tell Mia that though. All of her feelings of safety, of reassurance that the boys and I could actually get rid of the damn ghost, were probably riding on her belief that I knew what I was doing.

Besides, it was an easy way out of what I’d done. And I was weak enough to take it.

I nodded slowly. “Ok,” I said. I scanned around the room, gulping as my gaze fell on a picture of Mia and Danny. Danny had been tall, with dark curly hair that fell into twinkling eyes. I glanced away so I didn’t have to look at the happy, boyish grin he was aiming at the camera.

My eyes fell on Mia’s arm, and I frowned. “Where did you get those bruises?” I asked.

Mia glanced down at her bare arms, frowning as she noticed for the first time the thin bruises running along her forearms. Four in a neat little row, with a fifth on the other side of her arm. Almost like a hand gripping her a little too tightly.

She gulped. “That- that was when Danny fell. I tried to grab him, to stop him from falling. It- it didn’t work.”

She glanced away, her hands fidgeting in her lap, and I frowned. If he had grabbed her arm when he fell with that much force, he would have dragged her down the stairs with him. Not only that, but the bruises were at the wrong angle.

“Try again.” 

Mia glanced up sharply. 

“What really happened?” I asked.

Mia sighed. “Alright. Alright. We were- we were fooling around in here. Nothing serious. I decided I wanted some fresh air; we were gonna take a walk around outside or something. I dunno. I think I just wanted him out of the house before- before—” She broke off with a sob, and I rubbed her back soothingly until she could continue. “We were in the hall when he suggested that while we were out, we could go all the way. You know.” 

I nodded. I’d figured it out. After a moment Mia continued, staring at her hands as she did.

“I laughed and said no, and he pushed me against the wall. Tried to convince me. His hands got a bit tight, but he didn’t mean anything by it. He was just fooling around.” She looked at me imploringly, begging me to believe her. 

I crinkled my nose. It didn’t really matter what I thought of her boyfriend. All that mattered was catching the ghost that had killed him. 

“And then what?” I asked.

Mia gulped. “I- I uh, I told him to get off, and he did. After a minute. He was laughing, we both were, it was just a game. But then something- the- the ghost- shoved him down the stairs. Not just down the stairs, over the banister.” Her breathing grew heavy, and I was again forced to comfort her.

That was interesting. Was it a coincidence that the ghost had decided to make an appearance when it looked like Mia was in trouble? When her boyfriend was getting a bit rough? Something told me it wasn’t.

My heart beating faster with anticipation, I stood and moved quickly across the room. “Come on,” I told Mia. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s get your brother and join the others.”

Mia nodded and followed me out of the room, drawing me to a halt outside of her brother’s door. “Maybe I should go in and bring him out to you,” she said. “I don’t want you to scare him.”

I nodded, stepping back. Mia knocked lightly on her brother’s door.

“Matt?” she called. “Matty?”

When no answer came she pushed the door open, slipping inside. For a moment there was silence.

“Matt!”

I shoved into the room, scanning around me. With the exception of Mia and I, no one else was in the there.

Mia spun and grabbed my shoulders, verging on panic. “Where is he?” she asked. “Where’s my brother?”

“I don’t know.” I grasped Mia’s hands in mine, forcing my breaths to come deep and even. “It’s ok. We’ll figure it out. Mia, you need to calm down.”

It took a minute, but at last Mia’s breath began to slow. She nodded as she stepped back, and I turned my attention away from her. The room looked completely normal; there weren’t any signs of a struggle. 

“Maybe he’s just downstairs?”

Mia nodded eagerly, and we sprinted downstairs together. In the living room we found Sam and Dean with Mia’s parents, all talking quietly. No Matt.

They all glanced up as we came in. “Where’s Matt?” asked Mrs. Frea. Her gaze drifted back and forth between Mia and me, worry slowly taking over her features. Beside me Mia was beginning to hyperventilate again.

Sam and Dean stood. “Where do you remember seeing him last?” asked Sam.

Mr. Frea blinked a few times. “Uh- we sent the kids upstairs to pack.”

Dean started up the stairs, gesturing for Sam and I to follow him. In Matt’s room I pulled my EMF detector out of my pocket; I had never taken it out of my jacket earlier that day. The thing went crazy.

“Ok,” I said. “Where could he have gone?”

“Anywhere if his parents weren’t paying attention,” Dean stated. “Which they probably weren’t. They were rushing to get the hell out of here.”

I sighed. “Ok. I might have a clue as to what’s going on.” Quickly I explained what Mia had told me, and the boys listened eagerly.

“Hold on,” said Sam. He moved to the closet, wrenching open the door.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Sam pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and shined it around the small space. “Look there,” he said. 

I peered closely. Scribbled onto the lower portion of the wall in red crayon was a drawing of two boys playing. I couldn’t help a small smile as I realized what was going on, the familiar feeling of _game on_ rushing through my system. 

A ghost that interceded on a girl’s behalf to protect her from an abusive partner. A little boy that had disappeared with a ghost. Cans in the cabinet had sometimes been knocked down, like a child carelessly going through, searching for his favorite jar of sauce. Other times they’d been stacked neatly, like a mother reorganizing her child’s mess.

“Small town like this?” muttered Dean. “No one just vanishes. I should’ve realized it earlier.”

I gulped. I should have realized it earlier.

“Ok, I don’t understand,” said Mr. Frea. “What are you thinking?”

Sam turned to them. “We’re thinking Robert Unthur’s wife and son never left.” 

I ignored the perplexed look on the Freas’ faces.

Dean started pacing back and forth, thinking. “Ok, so maybe Robert comes home some nights after work, maybe he’s a little drunk. Maybe he hits his wife a bit. His son too.”

“That would explain why they left,” I said. “But not why he hung himself a month later. He would’ve gone looking for them if they’d run off, not killed himself. Which means he knew exactly where they were the whole time.”

Sam nodded. “It would have had to have been inconspicuous. People would notice a couple of freshly dug graves in the yard. It also had to be big enough for him to fit their luggage too, to make it look like they ran off.”

“But why?” I asked. “Why would he kill them? Why would he kill himself?”

Dean shrugged. “Late night booze coupled with an already shitty husband. It was probably an accident. But then the wife and kid came back for revenge.”

I nodded. That made sense. Where could Robert have hidden his wife’s and son’s bodies? Someone would have noticed him bringing them and their luggage out of town, and either way he had an alibi for the night they’d disappeared. Which meant that whatever he’d done, he’d done it quickly.

“The porch!” I yelled.

I ran from the room, ignoring the confused exclamations behind me. Within moments I had left the house, and was shining my flashlight around the perimeter of the porch.   
There. A few boards were missing from the side, creating a hole just big enough for a small boy to crawl through. I pulled at the other boards, and was able to widen the gap considerably. It was now big enough for a grown man to crawl beneath the porch, dragging a large object.

“Lucy, don’t do it!”

I ignored Dean’s voice and crawled into the hole, and wasn’t able to resist a smirk as he began cursing behind me. As soon as I was in there was a shuffling, and Dean began to crawl under.

“Matt?” I called. “Matty? My name is Lucy. Can you hear me?”

I cast my flashlight around, my eyes focusing on a flash of movement off to the side. The young boy from earlier that day was sitting in the dirt, hunched over as he played with something.

“Matt!” I called. I had to crawl towards him, but as I neared I saw that he was rolling a toy car around. “Are you ok?”

Matt glanced up at me. “Yeah,” he said. “Why? Who’re you?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m Lucy. It’s time to go.”

Matt frowned. “But I was playing,” he said. “Willy and I were playing.”

I gulped. “I’m sure Willy will understand. Tell him you’ll see him tomorrow. It’s bed time.”

Matt sighed and nodded, glancing to a space somewhere beside him. “I’m sorry Willy,” he said. “Goodnight.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as Matt began to crawl out. Dean helped him out of the porch, and then he moved over to me, his flashlight in one hand and his rock salt gun in the other. I drew my own gun.

There was a curious looking mound near where Matt had been sitting, and Dean and I shifted towards it. It turned out to be suitcases, and when we opened them we found they were filled with clothes for a woman and small boy. Dean and I exchanged sad glances but continued forward, edging around the suitcases to look at what we knew was just behind them. I grimaced as my eyes fell on the two bodies; by now simply bones stripped of all flesh. Even their clothes were hanging in tatters. 

I shuddered and looked away. Why was this bothering me so much? I’d seen bones before. I spent half my nights digging them up and torching them.

“It’s because of what happened to them,” whispered Dean. I glanced over at him in shock; how had he known what I was thinking? “It makes it sadder.”

I nodded. Dean had the same look in his eyes that I was feeling, and in the darkness he reached over and squeezed my arm comfortingly. 

“Guys!” called Sam. I glanced back to see Sam poking his head through the hole we had crawled through. “I sent the Freas away. They’re going to wait for us outside our motel. Did you find them?”

“Yeah,” called Dean. There was a rough edge to his voice that only Sam and I would ever be able to detect. With a sigh he turned back to the bodies before us.

“Do we have to burn the luggage too?” I asked.

Dean shrugged. “Not sure. We might as well, just to be safe.”

I nodded and grabbed a suitcase, working on wriggling my way backwards. At the entrance Sam took the suitcase from me, and I moved aside so that Dean could shove the other one outside.

“Get the tarp from the car,” he called. Sam nodded and disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a wide tarp that had probably seen better days. 

Dean and I gingerly loaded the bodies onto the tarp, and though we tried to be gentle, they invariably fell apart. I grimaced as I picked up a piece of vertebrae, setting in delicately onto the pile forming on the plastic sheet.

“Make sure we’ve got everything,” ordered Dean. “We have to get it all. Even the clothes.”

I nodded and swept my flashlight around, scanning the ground for small bones or pieces of cloth that had fallen off the corpses. A metallic glint caught my eye and I edged towards it, picking a small gold wedding band off the ground. I gulped and quickly added it to the tarp, nodding to Dean that we were ready to go.

“Sam,” I called at the edge of the hole. “Give us a hand here!”

There was no answer, and with a frown I clambered out. Sam was nowhere to be seen.

I sighed and turned around, grabbing the edge of the tarp. Together Dean and I managed to tug it out from under the porch, and then Dean himself emerged, covered in dirt. I doubted I looked much better.

“Sam?” he called. “Sammy?”

Nothing.

Now I was getting worried, and Dean and I started away from the porch, heading towards the car. Maybe Sam was getting supplies.

Sam was lying on his back on the ground, struggling to keep the little boy sitting on his chest from choking him. The kid was surprisingly strong- an aftereffect of being a ghost- but Sam managed to toss Willy Unthur off of him. As soon as the kid was off I fired off my rock salt gun, and with a shriek he flickered from view.

“You ok?” Dean hurried to Sam’s side, and Sam nodded. 

“Fine,” he panted. “Damn, that kid is fast. I came to start getting the salt and gas; didn’t see him coming.”

Dean nodded, glancing back over to me. “We just pissed them off,” he warned. “Not to mention they’ve probably figured out what we’re about to do. Let’s- Lucy!”

I didn’t have a chance to react before I was knocked off my feet, giving a small shriek of fright as I flew through the air. I landed several feet away and rolled, scrambling to my feet. There was a shimmer in the air in front of me, and then Veronica Unthur appeared. There was a dark bruise around her throat where she had been choked to death, and in her hands she held what was probably her husband’s belt.

In retrospect, shooting her son, even if it was only her son’s ghost, might not have been my smartest idea.

She rushed me, and with a yelp I moved to the side. I tripped though, tumbling to the ground. Glancing up, I saw that it had been Willy who had tripped me. He had the same bruise around his neck as his mother.

Before either could do anything Sam and Dean both shot them. I scrambled to my feet and backed away, and Sam grabbed my arm.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Fine. We need to get those bones burned.”

Dean nodded and grabbed a bag of salt from the trunk of the impala, and Sam grabbed a tank of gas. I dragged the tarp away from the house- the building didn’t need any help falling apart- and as Dean began dumping salt over the bones I grabbed the suitcases. Sam stood to the side with his gun in his hands, eyes scanning around him. 

He fired off two shots to my left, and I spun to see Veronica and Willy disappear. I drew my gun again, and as Dean began throwing gasoline over the bones and suitcases I fired at the mother and son as they appeared behind Dean. 

As Dean tossed a match onto the bones I heard a chilling scream. Glancing around me, I saw Veronica and her son standing near the porch. They had been getting ready to come at us again.

Now both were slowly lighting on fire. Willy tried to charge forward again, but he barely made it two steps before he fell to his knees. His mother knelt by his side and wrapped him in a hug, forgetting completely about me as she saw to her son’s terror, and as their ghosts became fully engulfed in flames I felt tears come to my eyes.

Then they disappeared, and I knew it was over. 

I took a deep breath and glanced back to Sam and Dean. They didn’t seem emotional about what had just happened, but then again they’d been doing this longer. They’d had more practice hiding it.

We left quickly, driving in silence back to the motel. The Freas were waiting for us in the parking lot, all bunched into their car. I knew the boys and I must’ve looked awful, because all four of their eyes widened as we climbed out of the impala.

“Let’s get inside,” suggested Dean. He led us all into the room he and Sam were sharing, and while the Freas sat on one of the beds the boys and I moved to the table. It didn’t take long for Sam to assure them that the ghosts were gone, and the look of relief on their faces was clear as day.

“So is that it?” asked Mr. Frea.

Sam shrugged. “It is on our end. I’m sure the police are going to want to look into Danny Briant’s death a bit more, but just stick with _he fell down the stairs_ and you should be good. Eventually this will all go away.”

Mrs. Frea nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. She sniffed and stood, tugging Matt’s arm to bring him with her. Somehow I doubted she’d let that boy out of her sight since we’d gotten him out from under the porch.

“Where will you go?” I asked. “I mean, something tells me you’re not going back to the house.”

Mr. Frea shook his head. “What I said about the police wanting us out for a few days is true. We’ve got to find somewhere to stay until the investigation is done.”

Next to me Dean groaned, knowing what I was about to do.

“You can have my room,” I said. I pointed to where my motel room was next door, smiling slightly at the shocked looks on the Freas’ faces. “I can stay in here.”

“You’re sure?” asked Mrs. Frea.

I nodded. “Yeah. There’re only two beds in there, but it’s better than running all over town trying to find a motel with empty rooms. And I can kick these two to the same bed.”

Mia glanced at Sam and Dean, who probably had identical annoyed expressions on their faces, and giggled.

“Thanks.” Mr. Frea exchanged looks with his wife, and the two gave each other small nods of agreement. “Thank you.”

I nodded. “No problem. Let me just clear my stuff out of there.”

I did so quickly, taking over the bed furthest from the door in Sam and Dean’s room. We each took turns in the shower, and once I finished I found myself sitting outside, needing the fresh air.

I glanced up from checking my phone as Mia slipped out of her room, and she sat beside me.

“What about you?” she asked. “Where are you guys headed now?”

I shrugged. “Not really sure. We sort of just follow the cases.”

Mia blinked in surprise. “Are there a lot of them?”

“More than you’d think.” I allowed myself a small chuckle. Even without the demons terrorizing Earth, there was still plenty going on. Ghosts, witches, and other such monsters, they were still around. If anything, the lack of competition by the demons had made them that much more prominent.

Sometimes I really wished I’d had a chance to do more during the Grace Crisis. A chance to get rid of the monsters for good. Another part of me was happy I hadn’t. Sam and Dean were fueled by the chase; they needed to hunt. I was slowly falling into the same mindset as them. As much as we hated the late nights and the stress and the constant injuries, we needed them.

“Here.” Mia held out her phone, and hesitantly I took it. “Put your number in.”

I frowned, but did as she said. “Why?”

Mia shrugged. “Just- just cos. What you do, it’s got to be lonely. And no one else would believe me if I tried to tell them about this.” She waved her arm around to indicate the hell that her life had just been. “And no one would believe you if you told them what you do. So if you ever need to talk, about- about whatever it is you do, or if you just need to bury your head in the sand for a bit, give me a call.” She offered a thin smile, and I felt tears come to my eyes.

I was the reason her boyfriend was dead. I was some weird chick who showed up at her house in the middle of the night with a gun and a story about how I was going to kill a ghost. She should be terrified of me and what I was mixed up in. She should at least hate me for not getting things right the first time around. But instead she was exchanging numbers with me, offering herself up as my very first friend in this universe.

I paused a moment as I realized that. 

I didn’t have any friends here. Sam and Dean were like brothers and Cas was my boyfriend. I was friendly with some of their friends, like Jody Mills and Garth Fitzgerald, but I didn’t actually have any friends of my own.

The thought was suddenly strangely appealing, almost painful as I pushed my phone at Mia. She quickly inputted her number, then reached out and squeezed my hand. I hadn’t even realized I was crying, but then I felt a tear drip slowly down my cheek.

Mia gave a shaky laugh. “God,” she whispered. “When did everything get so complicated?”

I chuckled. “It gets better,” I offered.

“Really?”

I sighed. “No. I was trying to be comforting, but uh- yeah. Sorry.”

Mia laughed. “It’s fine.” She paused for a moment, then raised her phone in the air. “Here’s to complicated.”

“Complicated and crappy,” I agreed. “But worth it.” We clunked our phones together, then fell back on the pavement laughing. It was probably from stress or lack of sleep, maybe both, but our little toast seemed much funnier than it normally would have.

After a few minutes Mia sighed and rose, stuffing her phone back in her pocket. “Night, Lucy.”

I nodded and gave a small wave as she backed towards her door, flipping my phone around in my hand. “Night, friend,” I whispered.


	3. How to Out Vigilante a Vigilante

There turned out to be another case for us to work. Sam picked it up in the paper the morning after we dealt with the ghosts of Veronica and William Unther, and after breakfast we made our exit from the motel. This involved a rather teary goodbye on Mia’s behalf, and though I was loathe to admit it, I was somewhat sorry to say goodbye to my first friend.

The case was a ways south; in a city that had been gradually growing in population over the last thirty years. It wasn’t nearly as big as New York City, but it definitely had its dark corners. As Dean guided the impala into the city I used my phone to skim through news articles that pertained to the case.

Basically, someone called Harry Jameson had been running around the city beating people up. He did so mostly at night, though a few attacks had been during the day, and all on some not very upstanding citizens. Several drug dealers, some thwarted rapes, and some abusive partners. So far no one had died, though there were a few broken bones. Sam had almost gone past the article when he’d read it; it had seemed like a local vigilante case. Then something in the article had caught his eye, making him read it again.

Here was the thing; Harry Jameson had died three years ago.

I scratched at an itch on my nose as I finished skimming through the latest article, careful not to catch my hand on my red lipstick. 

“So what are we thinking?” I asked. “Shape shifter?” 

Both boys nodded.

“There’s got to be a reason our shifter chose that face,” Sam said. “I’ve been looking into Harry Jameson, but the local obituary was pretty vague about his death. I could hack police records, but not without better wifi.” As he spoke he frowned and hit his phone against the palm of his hand, making a sour face as it took its sweet time pulling up results for his latest search.

“It might be easier if you two pretend to be FBI,” I said. “This way the local police will keep you looped into the investigation.”

“What about you?” asked Dean. “I’m guessing you’re not planning on sitting this out.”

“Of course not.” _When did I ever sit out on a case?_ “I’m not sure what I’m gonna do yet.”

Dean sighed. “Just be careful, ok? Let us know what you’re going to do.”

I nodded. “Aye, aye Captain.”

In front of me Sam snickered, and Dean looked annoyed. 

The first thing we did, like always, was find a motel to stay in. Sam and Dean changed into their suits and left, pulling uncomfortably at their collars the whole while. As they left I pulled my phone out of my pocket, dialing Cas’s number. For a few minutes it rang, then it went to voicemail.

“Hey Cas, it’s me. Just checking in. The boys and I picked up a case a few hours south of the last one.” I quickly gave him the address of the motel. “Call me back tonight. I miss you.”

With a sigh I hung up, tossing my phone on my bed. For a moment I sat there, drumming my fingers against my leg, and then an idea occurred to me. There weren’t any maps of the town in the motel room, so I walked around to the lobby, grabbing several.

Back in the motel room, I dotted on each map where our shape shifting vigilante had struck. By the time I was done I had a series of red dots placed all over town, and set to finding a pattern.

I connected the dots in different ways on each map, trying to find a central place among them, somewhere relatively close to them all. Often I excluded some dots as I drew lines and circles, varying where I laid my designs. By the time Sam and Dean returned I had taken several more maps from the lobby, and was sitting on the little table in the corner of the room. On the floor and beds surrounding me were each map, each dotted and outlined.

“Whoa.” Sam froze as he opened the door, then edged carefully inside. “What’s all this?”

I scowled. “Maps of the city. I can’t figure out the pattern.”

Dean frowned. “Sorry?”

I sighed. “Whoever this person is, they’re attacking people all over the city. But they’ve got to be coming from somewhere. Wherever it is, it should be central to these points; at least most of them. I’ve tried every different pattern I can think of, but none of them seem right.”

“Somehow I don’t think it’s this one,” Dean commented. He held up a map that had been crumpled and tossed to the side. On it were a series of red scribbles, eliminating the work I’d attempted on it.

I felt my cheeks color. “Yeah, uh, I sort of got angry.”

“At a map?” asked Sam.

I scowled. “Shut up.”

The boys chuckled and joined me, tiptoeing their way past the maps. I wasn’t sure the table could take the weight of all three of us, but somehow it held, though it creaked as Sam shifted his weight. 

_It’s holding for now,_ I thought.

“What’d you find out at the police station?” I asked. 

“Not much,” said Sam. “Harry Jameson got beat to death three years ago, but no one knows who did it. They’re thinking drug deal gone wrong or something.”  
I nodded. 

“It could be someone close to him doing this,” reasoned Dean. “But it might not be. I tend to think it is though.”

“Where did he have friends in the city? What about family?”

“All over,” Sam said. “He was pretty well liked. Not the super popular kind, but the kind that just got along with everyone.”

“So basically that’s a dead end.”

“Yep.” Dean sighed and glanced down at the maps spread out. They were our only lead.

For a few minutes we stared at the maps together, none of us with any idea about what the pattern was. Glancing back and forth between the two of them, I saw that Sam was tapping a finger against his chin, his eyebrows drawn together broodingly. Dean had a pained expression on his face, and was rubbing at his temple as though a headache was forming. I reached behind me and grabbed the Advil to hand to him.

“Ok,” said Dean. He took another moment to peer at the maps, then shook his head. “I got nothing.”

“Same.” Sam looked like he was starting his own migraine, and Dean passed the Advil.

“So what are we gonna do?” I asked. “Hit the streets tonight? Try and find this guy on our own?”

“Maybe,” said Sam. “Let’s listen in on the police scanner.”

“But by the time we hear anything, whatever it is will have already happened,” I objected.

Sam frowned. “True.”

“So you stay here and listen to the scanner, and Sam and I will drive around,” suggested Dean. “Together, we might be able to catch something.”

I snorted. “No chance.”

Dean sighed. “Lucy.”

“You’re not keeping me cooped up in the motel room to keep me safe. I’m a hunter now; that means I go out onto the streets.”

Dean’s nose crinkled in annoyance, but he didn’t say anything. He knew I was right.

“We need to figure out this pattern,” Sam said. 

For another half hour we mused over the maps, throwing suggestions back and forth to each other. Finally Sam sat bolt upright, eyes widening.

“Hold on,” he said. “I’ve got an idea. Do you have another map?”

I shook my head. “I can get one,” I offered. I scooted off the edge of the table, weaving my way delicately through the maze of maps spread out on the floor. I jogged quickly to the front of the motel, smiling softly in embarrassment at the raised eyebrow the guy at the front desk gave me.

“Another one?” he asked. “You’re cleaning out the rack.”

“Sorry.” I grabbed three maps, just in case, and started back out the door. Behind me the clerk chuckled.

Back in the room Sam grabbed the map, spreading it out on the table and grabbing the red marker I’d been using. It didn’t take long to dot the locations of each attack, but then, to my surprise, Sam started adding more information. Writing as small as he could, next to each dot Sam jotted down the time and date of the attacks.

“Ok,” he said. He began to trace, moving in chronological order, and Dean and I watched his progress. “There.”

I surveyed the map. The pattern now went in a sort of swirly, starting towards the center and working slowly outwards. Dean grinned and pulled the map towards him; now we were getting somewhere.

“Of course,” he said. “Whoever this is starts out small, close to home. Picks a random direction one night and walks until he finds a crime to bust. Next night he decides to go in another direction, so that he’s not focusing in one area. As time goes on and he gets more confident he branches out, moves further away from home. And he’s still finding crime all over the city, so that he isn’t focusing on one particular section.”

“But what about these irregularities?” I asked. I pointed to the few places where the swirly pattern was disrupted, the line dipping back towards the center of the page, only to head back out again for the next point.

“The times are different,” Sam told me. “These,” and he pointed to the irregularities, “have later times. Closer to morning. Maybe he got a late start, knew he couldn’t go far out before the sun came up and people started noticing a vigilante running through the streets. So he stays closer to home, so he can get back quickly.”

I nodded. That made sense. I peered closely at the area at the center of the pattern. It was just off the city center, though not by much, encompassing a couple of neighborhoods.

“So we hang around there tonight?” I asked. “See if we catch anyone sneaking around?”

Dean nodded. “Sounds about right.” He sighed, glancing over to me. “I don’t suppose you-”

“No.” My statement was firm, verging on annoyed. “I’m coming.”

Dean huffed.

I started rounding up the maps, wanting something to do before Dean and I started fighting. I couldn’t fit them all in the garbage can, and I made a mental note to leave a nice tip for the poor maid who had to clean the room.

We spent the rest of the day cleaning the arsenal of weapons in the car. By that point I was well versed in all the nuances of taking apart, cleaning, and reassembling a gun. The boys and I fell into a comfortable silence as we worked; somehow the familiar feel of oil and metal was comforting. It brought about feelings of long distance drives and road side camps, nights spent gazing at the stars. Long hours poring over cases and the final, satisfying kill at the end. 

More importantly, it also felt like stiff leather jackets and faded plaid shirts. Like family. I knew my new little family, as dysfunctional as it could sometimes be, wouldn’t exist without the job. And though Sam, Dean, and Cas could never replace my original family, could never replace my parents or the twins, I still loved them. Just as much as I loved the family I’d left behind.

The last thing I polished was my angel blade. I always took care to keep it clean. I had no idea if it could rust, but I didn’t intend to find out. Cas had given me that knife, given it so that I could keep myself safe. It was heartwarming, to say the least.

Plus, the knife had proven itself useful.

After a while, as we neared the bottom of the pile of weapons, Sam slipped out to stock up on other supplies. When he returned a half hour later he had bought two new bags of salt and had refilled our two tanks of gas. 

When the weapons were clean we put them all back in the car. Everything had its place, and though nothing was marked, we all knew what went where. We still had a few hours left of sunlight, so Dean popped the front hood and started giving the impala’s different parts a quick clean. Nothing special; he didn’t start taking things apart, he didn’t make too big of a mess. He still needed a shower when he was done though.

As the sun finished setting we pulled into a drive through to get some dinner. As I dabbed my fries in ketchup I found my phone buzzing, and glanced down to see that I had a text from Mia.

**Hey,** it read. **How are you?**

For a moment I sat there, not sure how to respond. It had been so long since I’d had a friend to text; it felt odd. Then I sighed. It wasn’t like the boys and I didn’t talk; I hadn’t lost social skills after meeting them. Some would say I’d gained them; it took great effort sometimes not to start hitting those two brothers.

But how was I supposed to describe what I was doing? How was I supposed to talk about hunting with someone who didn’t hunt themselves? It seemed ludicrous. 

But it wasn’t like Mia didn’t know what I was doing. It was just sort of like talking about some sport that your friend didn’t know much about. If that sport involved burning bodies and shooting things.

**I’m not bad,** I sent back. **How’re you?**

It didn’t skip my mind that I didn’t mention what I was doing. Which Mia hadn’t actually asked about, so that wasn’t important, but I still felt awkward casually mentioning that I was hunting. _By the way, I’m sitting in my brother’s car with a gun stuffed in my belt getting ready to go hunt down some shape shifting vigilante. No biggie._

Despite my trepidations, it was still exciting having someone to text with. It felt almost normal, like I had gotten a bit of my old life back. Like I was sitting in my mom’s car texting Jill or Cassie, my two best friends growing up. 

**So, what’re you doing?**

Crap. Now I had to figure out how to talk about hunting. For a moment I stared at my phone screen, pondering over how much I could say without things getting weird, how much I even wanted to talk about the job. 

As the screen started to get dark I tapped on it, then began to type.

**Working a case. What about you?**

That didn’t seem too bad. Hopefully Mia wouldn’t get too weirded out by just the mention of hunting, and I wasn’t forcing any details on her. I hit send before my nerve could break.

**Not much. Listening to music.**

A moment later another text came in. 

**What’s the case about?**

I sighed. Now things were getting more complicated. Why did things always have to get complicated?

**There’s a vigilante running around a ways south of your town,** I told her. **We think it might be a shape shifter.**

**Really?** Responded Mia. **Wow. Why do you think it’s a shape shifter?**

I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. She was asking questions, which meant she wasn’t weirded out by hunting, or at least not completely weirded out. And she wasn’t asking any of the harder questions, like what we were gonna do if we found the shifter. The truth was even I didn’t know. 

What were we gonna do? It wasn’t like we could turn the shifter over to the police. Their disguise was genius; there was no DNA evidence to prove their identity. Either way, all they had to do was change appearance and they could probably confuse the police as to how some random person had ended up in a police cell. They’d be set free.

I bit my lip. Would we kill the vigilante? Technically they were acting outside the law, breaking the law. But how many laws had the boys and I broken? Probably most of them.

But the vigilante was hurting people. Sam, Dean, and I only hurt the monsters we hunted; we were careful not to involve others when we could avoid it.

But the vigilante was only hurting bad people. It’s not like he or she was just beating up random people in the street. Each had been involved in some crime of their own, which the vigilante had interrupted.

I quickly responded to Mia’s text, breaking off my train of thought. **The shifter’s running around looking like someone who died three years ago. Either it’s a shifter or zombies are suddenly real.**

**Lol** , came Mia’s response.

“Hey guys,” I called.

“Hmm?” asked Sam.

“What are we gonna do when we find the shifter?” I asked. “We can’t go to the police. Are we gonna kill them?”

I saw Sam and Dean trade looks. I was guessing they hadn’t really thought about that much themselves.

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “I guess maybe we’ll talk to them, see if we can convince them to stop.”

“And if they don’t?”

Sam wrung his hands together. “I don’t know.” He frowned. “First let’s concentrate on finding them.”

I nodded, glancing out the window. The sun was finishing its descent, and darkness had finally fallen over the streets. We slipped quickly from the car and spread the map of the city over the front hood, holding flashlights over the page.

“Ok,” said Dean. “I say we split up. We’ll cover more ground that way. We’ve got three neighborhoods where this person could be coming from, so we each take one. Lucy, you go here. Sammy, you’re here.”

I couldn’t help but notice that Dean had positioned himself in between Sam and I, so he could rush to either of our aid if need be. I didn’t comment though, merely nodding. I took a moment to check my weapons; my usual pocket knife, a silver knife strapped to my ankle, and my angel blade and a gun containing silver bullets stuffed in my belt. I was ready.

“Be careful,” Sam said.

I rolled my eyes and nodded, pulling out my phone.

**Got to go** , I sent to Mia. I didn’t elaborate as to why, merely stuffing my phone back in my pocket. I didn’t want to be distracted in the middle of a hunt.

The boys and I sent each other final smiles before turning away from each other. We each started off in separate directions, and I began walking alone through the dark streets, scanning the shadows around me for vigilantes.


	4. Sweet Returns

I was uneasy. Why, I wasn’t positive. Sure, I was walking around the streets of some city at night, searching for a shape shifting vigilante, but I’d done weirder things. It wasn’t like my life was normal. Or safe.

So why was my skin crawling? I paused under the light of a streetlamp, doing my best to collect my thoughts. A moment later the hair on the back of my neck stood on edge, and a strengthening of the uneasy feeling in my gut forced me out of the light. I slipped into the shadows, resisting the urge to hide behind a dumpster.

It felt like someone was watching me. Why? Who would be watching me? I shuddered at all the possibilities, paranormal and otherwise, and put my hand to the angel blade stuffed in my belt. The touch of the cool metal under my fingers helped to calm me somewhat, though my heart was still racing.

I stayed where I was for several moments, pressing my back against the nearest brick wall and peering anxiously around me. I couldn’t see anyone besides me on the streets, and there were no suspicious noises. Nothing to suggest someone was creeping around, trying to sneak up on me.

I took a deep breath and sighed. I had a job to do. I was hunting a monster; I couldn’t sit there and hide from a scary feeling. It was my job to find the scary feeling and remind it that even monsters should be afraid of the dark.

Forcing myself to step forward, I started slowly down the street again, eyes scanning nervously around. If I had been tense before it was nothing compared to how tightly wound I was now. I felt like a string stretched too tight. One wrong move and _snap_. 

I jumped as a sound filled the air, barely keeping from screeching. The sound turned out to be a small group of friends stumbling their way out of a bar, laughing and joking amongst each other. I watched them for a moment, but they didn’t seem to be making their way to one of the cars lining the curb, so I left them alone.

Fifteen minutes later and I was still wandering around. The same a half hour after that. There wasn’t much else I could do. It wasn’t like I had a vigilante tracker; some little device that would beep and guide me in the right direction. Scowling as I inhaled the frankly disgusting stench coming from an alleyway holding an overflowing dumpster, I wished I did have one.

By then the feeling that I was being watched had faded. It had vanished rather suddenly, though it took me a while after that to wind down. Or at least wind down somewhat. Considering what I was doing at the time, total relaxation probably wasn’t a good idea.

I frowned and glanced down as my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Dean.

“Hey,” I said.

“Sam’s tailing him,” Dean said. He sounded out of breath, like he was running, and I guessed he was already racing toward Sam. “Crescent Avenue, last he said.”

“On my way.” I hung up the phone, shoving it in my pocket. Then, for a moment I just stood there. There was no way I could run all the way across the city on time to catch the vigilante. I didn’t even know my way around. I needed a car.

It was a simple enough matter to steal one. I took one from a side alley, where there weren’t any cameras, and soon had the engine going. I had become disturbingly practiced at stealing cars over the past year, and though I still felt a bit guilty whenever circumstances forced me to take one, the feeling was no longer gut wrenching. 

Then I pulled out my phone and typed Crescent Avenue into the maps setting. It took a moment, but soon I had a route planned out, and I put the car into drive and hit the gas. 

It took a lot longer than I would have liked to get to Crescent Avenue. I had to stop for red lights and stop signs, not to mention the occasional pedestrian, and I couldn’t speed too much without drawing attention to myself. As I neared Crescent Avenue I exited out of the mapping system; Sam and the shifter were no longer there.

“Ok.” I got out of the car, turning slowly in a circle. “If I was a shape shifting vigilante, what direction would I go in?”

I had no idea.

I sighed, pulling out my phone and dialing Sam’s number.

“Where are you?” I asked.

Sam sighed, and I could hear him panting on the other end of the line. “A few blocks away from Crescent,” he said. “The shifter got away.”

“Damn.” I scowled into thin air and kicked at a beer bottle littering the sidewalk. It went skidding away, and I resisted the urge to go pick it up and find a trash can for it. “Now what?”

There was a pause, during which time the only sounds were Sam’s heavy breathing and the late night city noises around me. “Head back to the motel,” Sam ordered. “I’ll meet you there. I’ll call Dean.”

“Got it.” I hung up the phone and got back in the car, leaning back in the seat with a disappointed sigh. 

Our plans of chancing across the shifter while wandering around at night had been farfetched to begin with. It was a miracle Sam had even seen the person. There had never really been a chance of us actually taking him or her down. Not when we were split up, and when the shifter had the home-turf advantage.

I didn’t break any traffic laws bringing the car back to where I’d taken it. Once I’d parked I did my best to wipe my prints away with the hem of my shirt, then started down the street on foot.

A few minutes later my phone buzzed. Again I answered it, leaning against a building as I did so I wasn’t standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

I grinned as I recognized Cas’s voice, and despite the sour mood that had been settling over me, a happy little bubble filled up in my stomach.

“Hey Angel Dust.”

Cas chuckled at the nickname, and I drank in the sound.

“Where are you?” he asked. “You’re not at the motel.”

“Uh- hold on.” I peered around me for a street sign. “On Berkshire Road. Right next to a library.”

Instinct had me spinning around a moment later, and my eyes fell on the figure standing feet away. Tall, dressed in a suit and trench coat, with dark hair that fell into deep blue eyes in just the perfect way. A devil’s grin on an angel’s face. I knew how many emotions could swirl around in those eyes, but the only thing I saw there at that moment was joy.

We all but launched ourselves at each other, falling into a deep, passionate kiss. I ended up standing on my toes, my fingers curling into Cas’s hair, and he pulled me up and against him, his hands fitting perfectly against the small of my back. Electric tingles ran up my spine, and we automatically clutched each other closer.

When we pulled away we were panting. For several moments we stayed where we were, resting our foreheads together. Cas’s breath was hot on my face, sending a new set of shocks running through my skin.

“I missed you,” he whispered at last.

I smiled, pulling Cas into a hug and resting my head on his shoulder. “I missed you too. Are you done in heaven?”

Cas nodded; I could feel the motion against the side of my head. “For now,” he told me. “I’ll have to go back in another month or so.”

I pulled away and sent him a scowl that said I wasn’t happy. Cas let out a short laugh and intertwined our fingers.

“I know,” he said. “I wish I could stay here with you.”

I grinned. Why, I don’t know. It’s not like I hadn’t already known that. All the same, I found myself grinning like a kid on Christmas.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get back to the motel.”

Cas nodded, and a second later we had landed. I shook my head; flying didn’t bother me like it did Dean, but the rapid change in location was still somewhat unsettling. I felt like I should at least feel something, some jolt like I was landing or taking off, some disturbance in the force, or at least a moment of blackness where I couldn’t see anything. But we travelled too fast for that, and the flight was far too gentle for me to feel anything.

Either that or my jedi skills needed work.

I sent Sam and Dean texts that told them to head straight for my room when they got back to the motel. When I glanced up from my phone I found Cas examining some of the maps I’d tried to clean up earlier.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Work for the case.”

Cas’s eyebrow arched. “This seems a bit… excessive. I thought you hated research.”

I bit my lip, uncomfortable. “I do. But this case needed it. We still haven’t caught our goon.”

For a moment Cas inspected me silently, and then he nodded and replaced the crumpled up maps in the garbage. He settled on one of the beds, and eagerly I climbed up next to him. We curled up together, me all but sitting in his lap, our legs draped over each other. Cas’s arms wove around me, and I grasped his forearms with my own hands, pulling him tighter against me. We were a mass of tangled limbs. It was rapidly becoming one of my favorite ways to sit.

“What’s the case about?” he asked.

I quickly explained the case to Cas, then detailed our failed attempt to catch the vigilante that night.

“I knew it was a long shot,” I finished. “But still…”

Cas planted a kiss on my head. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

I smiled, though he couldn’t see, and either way I doubted it was much of a smile. “Thanks.”

For a few minutes we sat in silence. I wasn’t sure what Cas was thinking, but I was mulling over the case in my head. I only glanced up again when a key rattled in the door, and in stalked Sam and Dean, both looking annoyed.

The annoyance quickly faded from their faces as they spotted the angel I was curled up with.

“Cas!” Sam grinned and strode forward, and I shifted off Cas so he could stand. The two wrapped each other in a bear hug, and then Dean swooped in.

“When’d you get here?” he asked.

Cas smiled. “About ten minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you let us know?” Sam was beginning to pout.

Cas’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked like he was struggling to come up with a suitable excuse.

“I’m sorry,” I called out. “Did you want to watch us make out?”

Dean looked horrified, and Sam made a good natured face before breaking down into laughter at the look on Dean’s face. “No,” he chuckled. “Ok. Point taken.”

Cas came to sit with me again, blue eyes twinkling. Sam and Dean sat on the other bed, and I felt the mood of the room grow serious. It was time to get to work.

“So, what happened?” I asked.

Sam sighed. “I saw the shifter moving around on Crescent,” he said. “He was using the roofs, so I was the only one who saw. I called Dean and started to follow, but he noticed me. Then it was pretty much a chase across the rooftops.”

“Where’d you lose him?” I grabbed our one good map as I spoke, and Sam frowned as he thought back. 

“Not sure,” he admitted. “Franklin Avenue, I think.”

I nodded and drew a dot on the appropriate avenue, and we all gathered around to look at the map.

“Ok,” said Dean. “So that’s pretty close to the center of our pattern.”

I nodded. “The shifter probably headed home.”

“Don’t shape shifters shed skins?” asked Cas.

“Yeah, why?” 

Cas’s eyes roamed over the map. “Well, the shape shifter wouldn’t want to do that at home. It would be too obvious. Not to mention smelly. They’ve probably got someplace where they can change skins and dispose of them where no one will notice.”

“True.” Sam frowned. “Crap. That changes everything.”

Dean nodded. “The center of our pattern might just be where it changes shape. Not its house.”

“Well we can still trap it there,” I commented. I paused; we were still unsure what the next step would be. 

“Yeah,” agreed Dean. 

“Wherever it is, the shifter probably headed back there,” Sam offered. “It probably tossed in the towel for the night.”

Dean nodded. “The realization that someone is after it probably spooked it into hiding. It might not show again for a while.” He frowned. “Do you think it knows you’re a hunter?”

Sam shrugged. “Who knows? It might guess. It probably did.”

“Probably,” I said. “If he thought you were some bad guy that had gotten too close he’d have pounded your head in. I bet he only ran cos he figured you’re a hunter.”

Sam frowned and touched a hand to his head, as though to make sure it was still in one piece.

“So now what?” asked Dean. He glanced back and forth between the rest of us.

“Let’s go out tomorrow,” Cas suggested. “We’ll see if we can find out where the shape shifter is changing its skins. Then we wait there for it.”

“We?” asked Dean. “You in?”

Cas nodded. “The angels don’t need me at the moment, and I’ve worked cases with you before. Why not?”

“Cool.” Sam stood and rolled his head around. “I’m beat. I’m heading to bed.”

Dean nodded. He was halfway to the door before he froze, turning back to Cas and I. “Cas, you go. I’ll sleep in here tonight.”

Cas and I both frowned. 

“What?” I asked.

Dean shot me a look. “Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked.

I lifted an eyebrow. “Do you want me to answer that?”

Dean ignored Sam’s snickers in the background. “He’s your boyfriend,” he reminded me.

“Yes, we know,” Cas commented. There was a rather devilish smile on the angel’s lips as we traded looks.

Dean scowled. “You’re not sleeping in the same room together.”

“We’ve done it before.”

“That was before you were dating.”

I frowned. Technically we’d slept in the same room since then, but Dean didn’t need to know that. It’s not like we did anything. Anything much.

“Really?” Cas asked.

Dean grabbed Cas by the sleeve of his trench coat and shoved him toward the door. “Really. Get out.”

“But I don’t sleep,” Cas complained. “What am I supposed to do all night?”

“What do you normally do?” asked Sam. He wriggled his eyebrows slightly, glancing surreptitiously between Cas and I.

I glared at him. “Not helping, Sam.”

“Not trying to.”

Cas sighed. We both knew Dean had us beat. For a moment I considered threatening to sneak out, but I wouldn’t put it past Dean to knock both Cas and I out and tie us up. Apparently Cas was thinking the same thing, because he kept his mouth shut.

He stepped forward for one last kiss, and we drew it out as long as we could. Partially because we were still recovering from being apart for so long, partially just to mess with Dean.

“Goodnight,” whispered Cas. 

“Night.”

With a sigh and a final glare at Dean Cas slunk out the door, and looking like he was enjoying the entire thing Sam followed. The door clicked shut, and I turned and glared at Dean.

He was standing just behind me, his arms crossed and a smug smirk on his face.

“Don’t feel bad,” he told me. “If you want I’ll cuddle with you.” He opened his arms for a hug and gave me a deceptively sweet smile, and I had to resist the urge to hit him.

“I hate you,” I muttered.

Dean’s smile only grew bigger as he reached out to ruffle my hair. “Love you too, Lucy.”


	5. Realizations and Decisions

I tried to stay up, so that once Dean fell asleep I could sneak out and have Cas meet me. Unfortunately, Dean seemed to have guessed my plans. He pretended to fall asleep quickly so that he could surprise me if I tried to sneak off, attempting to do a fake snore that was probably the worst I’d ever seen. And I’d seen my six year old brother try that.

The next thing I knew it was morning. Dean was throwing open the curtains to my little motel room, letting the sun hit me full glare in the face.

“Ugghh.” I turned over onto my other side, ignoring Dean’s laughter from behind me.

“Morning,” he called. “Sleep well?”

“Screw you.”

Dean chuckled again and came to shake my shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Time to get up. Don’t make me throw water on you.”

I shot a one eyed glare at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Dean’s grin only grew bigger. “I would.”

Upon thinking about it for a moment I realized he really would. I shot out of bed, and once more ignoring Dean, slammed the bathroom door behind me.

By the time I’d finished in the shower Cas and Sam had arrived with breakfast. Cas and I sat together as I ate, which basically meant I sat in his lap. Dean seemed slightly annoyed by that, so Cas and I started to steal quick kisses and make small puns that had Sam cackling and Dean turning a rather unhealthy shade of green.

“Ok,” Sam said. He crumpled up his McDonalds wrapper and took a long draught of his coffee. “So, what’s the plan?”

“You bring us to where you lost the shifter,” Dean instructed. “Then we start combing the surrounding area. Look for shape shifter skins.”

“It’ll probably be in an abandoned building,” I added. “He or she would want privacy, wouldn’t want anyone stumbling upon their little lair.”

“It would be a tall building too,” Cas reasoned. “If the shape shifter is travelling on the roofs, their starting point would need to be about the same height as the surrounding buildings, so they can jump around.”

“Right,” I breathed. I hadn’t thought of that, but it was brilliant. “Good thinking.” 

Cas looked so proud of himself, and I rewarded him with a kiss.

“You two done making out?” asked Dean. He stood and grabbed his coat. “We have a case to work.”

“What’s the matter Dean?” I asked. 

Dean shot me a glare, and I didn’t bother trying to hide my smile.

We drove down to Franklin Avenue, parking the car outside a little deli. From there we peered out the windows at the surrounding street, trying to see if there were any buildings there that the shifter might be using.

“What about there?” asked Sam. He pointed toward the other end of the street, to a tall ramshackle of a building.

Cas vanished from beside me. Sam, Dean, and I barely had time to realize this when he appeared again, shaking his head.

“No,” he said. “It’s under construction; there are workers in there. I think they’re turning it into a small shopping center.”

“So no way our shifter could sneak in and out of there every night without being seen,” pointed out Dean.

“You know what would’ve been helpful,” I mused. “If we had bothered to research the area last night, figure out which buildings are inhabited or not. Why didn’t we think of that?”

Dean sighed. “Cos we’re idiots.”

“Hold on,” said Sam. “I can do it.” He pulled out his phone and began typing, and the rest of us waited in impatient silence.

“Ok,” Sam said. “There’re a couple uninhabited apartments on this street, and a few streets over there’s an abandoned factory.”

“What’re the addresses?” asked Cas.

Sam quickly relayed the information, and Cas vanished. A minute later he appeared again, falling into a sitting position as he did to avoid banging his head against the roof of the car.

“It’s the factory,” he told us. “There’s a dumpster behind it where the shifter is throwing out skins, and it’s clear he’s been there.”

Dean put the car in drive, and two minutes later we were parking in front of the factory. We slipped inside as inconspicuously as we could, and Cas led us up to the top floor. There we found, amid the tattered remains of abandoned machines, piles of neatly folded black shirts and pants. Combat boots, also black, were set to the side, and a dirty rag and can of polisher to the side indicated that the boots had recently been scrubbed clean of blood.

In one corner of the room was a stash of medical supplies. I wasn’t sure why the shifter had bothered with it- he or she would heal from any injuries not inflicted by silver, and only hunters carried around silver weapons- but hey, I could appreciate their readiness.

I peered out the window. There was a fire escape that, though rickety in appearance, seemed sturdy enough, and led to the roof. I had Cas fly me down to the dumpster below the window, where we uncovered rotting shape shifter skins and tattered clothes- discarded after being ruined in fights.

“Yep,” I said as we landed beside Sam and Dean. “This is the place.”

Dean nodded. “So,” he said. “Here’s the question. Do we just stay here and wait, or try something else?”

“They seemed pretty clever to me,” Sam said. “I feel like he or she would realize we’re here.”

Cas went to the window and peered around us. “So we watch from the other buildings,” he recommended. “One of the empty apartments is right across the street; we’ll be able to see the factory from there.”

I grinned, catching on. “When we see the shifter come in we surround him. Someone will have to be on the roof, so he can’t run that way, and the rest of us come in from the stairs.”

“I could just fly you all in,” suggested Cas.

I nodded. “And then he’s cornered.”

Cas and I shared grins, so proud of our plan, then turned to Sam and Dean. The two of them traded looks, shrugged, and nodded their consent.

* * * * 

Stakeouts are boring. We spent the rest of the day in our abandoned apartment of choice, not wanting the shifter to see us trying to sneak in later that night, polishing weapons and trading small talk. Eventually Cas and I slipped away to the other end of the apartment, and Sam managed to keep Dean from bugging us for an hour or two. Curled up together, mine and Cas’s voices lowered as we began talking about more personal topics, occasionally breaking for light yet passionate kisses. We were forced to emerge only when Dean started complaining that he was hungry.

Cas popped to the nearest store, grabbing sandwiches and pie. We ate slowly, knowing we had plenty of time until the sun finished setting, and I stole some of Dean’s pie. This earned an earful of complaining from him, but I decided it was his punishment from splitting Cas and I up the night before.

As the sun finally sank below the horizon we took turns sitting at the window, watching the factory across the street for the shifter. We had no idea which direction he would come from. We could just see the main entrance from our apartment though, and the fire escape that the shifter seemed to be using was right in plain view. Either way, when he or she did show, we would see him.

That happened about two hours after the sun set. Dean was keeping watch at that point, and Sam, Cas, and I were playing a card game toward the center of the room when Dean jumped upright, waving us over to the window.

“He just went in,” he told us.

“You sure?” I asked. “Did you get a good look at him?”

Dean shook his head. “No. He was wearing a hoodie. But he walked right in the building.”

I shrugged. It was good enough for me. We waited a minute, then Cas flew us to the second floor of the building. A moment later he disappeared, moving to block the fire escape.

“Let’s go,” said Sam.

We crept forward, peering cautiously inside the room at the third floor of the factory. Wherever the shifter was he was blocked from our view by a piece of machinery that had been left over, but we could hear him moving around. Judging by the grunting, pained sounds I was hearing he was changing skins, and wasn’t having a fun time with it.

The boys burst in without warning. I followed after them, my silver gun held ready, and found one very frightened shifter, clad only in his underwear, sprinting for the window. He skidded to a stop when Cas materialized in front of him, cussing and launching a spinning kick at my boyfriend.

Cas went flying backward, and before he had a chance to stand again the shifter was pushing open the window. 

“Cas!”

Cas waved me away as I moved toward him. “I’m fine,” he assured me. He stood, and together we watched as Sam and Dean followed the shifter out the window.

“They’re not gonna catch him,” I realized.

Cas shook his head. “Come here,” he ordered. He grabbed my hand, and a moment later we were on the roof. 

The shifter was sprinting west, and Cas flew us so that we appeared right in his path. This time we were ready for his attack, both of us dodging out of the way. Then we attacked at once, from opposite sides.

To my surprise, the shifter was annoyingly good at fending us off. Even when Sam and Dean arrived a moment later it took a minute to subdue him. That happened with me clobbering him over the head with the butt of my angel blade, which the shifter had nearly sent skidding off the roof of the building we were on halfway through the fight.

As the shifter collapsed I cast a glance around the group. Cas had a bloody nose, though I was sure he barely noticed and had already healed from it. Sam was holding his wrist, and Dean was pressing a hand to the back of his head. I was sore in several places, but I didn’t think I would have any permanent damage.

I took a deep breath. “I guess all that training did come in handy.”

The boys chuckled.

“Everyone alright?” asked Dean.

I gave a thumbs up, but no one was believing Sam’s pained nod. Cas seized Sam’s arm, then proclaimed as a blue glow spread over Sam’s wrist that the bone was fractured.

“Stupid ninja shape shifter,” Sam muttered.

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes as Cas moved on to his head.

“Let’s get him inside,” I suggested.

Cas slung the shifter over his shoulder and disappeared, leaving the rest of us to pick our way across the roofs. By the time we joined Cas he had found a chair and rope and had tied the shifter to it. He stood as we slid in the window, having finished the last knot.

“I think he’s going to be out for a while,” he cautioned. “You hit him pretty hard.”

I wasn’t sure if I should’ve been feeling more upset or proud by that, or which was more prevalent. I did catch the proud looks that all three boys aimed at me, and I widely ignored them. Instead I moved to the navy sweatshirt, baggy jeans, and beat up sneakers that had been discarded, rifling through the pockets.

“Here we go,” I declared. I flipped open the shifter’s wallet, quickly scanning for some sort of ID. The first thing I saw was a learner’s permit.

“Crap,” I muttered. I pulled it out of the wallet, using my flashlight to read it. “This kid’s only sixteen.”

There were several curses from behind me. “What’s his name?” asked Dean.

“Wesley Burt,” I said. I surveyed the picture next to the name. The boy in the photo had dark brown hair and blue eyes. He had a small smile on for the camera in his photo, but it looked like it was forced.

I sighed. It was bad enough we were still unsure about our course of action, but now he was a kid. It suddenly occurred to me that we could just untie him and leave town, slip away before he woke. We didn’t have to deal with this. Just this once, we could let something slip by.

No. We couldn’t do that. We had to see this case through to the end, for better or worse. That was our job. We couldn’t back out just because it got tough.

Sensing my unhappiness, Cas came and squeezed my shoulder, gently pulling the permit and wallet out of my hands. After they had been replaced in the shape shifter’s pockets he lead me to the corner of the room, and I buried my face in his shoulder and let myself forget about the case for a few minutes.

My peace was shattered when there was a moan from the center of the room, and I glanced up with dread to see the shifter slowly rolling his head around. A moment later he seemed to remember what had happened because he jolted upright, stopped only by the cords binding him to the chair.

It was hard to see him in the dim light, but I knew he was still wearing the skin of Harry Jameson. Blond hair and green eyes, a build that was somewhat larger than his natural one.

“It’s ok,” I said. I held my hands up as I approached, my heart pounding in my throat. “We’re not- Let’s just talk.”

I barely stopped myself from promising that we weren’t there to hurt him. The truth was I had no idea if we were. Wesley seemed to realize that, because he shot me a disbelieving scowl and strained against the ropes.

“Hey, kid,” said Dean. “Would you just stop? Listen to us. Ok? Just for a minute.”

Wesley stopped straining. “You’re hunters,” he spat.

Dean nodded. “We are.”

“Then you’re here to kill me.”

“Not necessarily.” Sam stepped forward, doing his best to keep his voice low and soothing. “We’re honestly not quite sure what we’re gonna do. Right now we just want to talk.”

Wesley’s eyes flickered back and forth between us, narrowed. Slowly though they relaxed, and though he still looked tense, he gave a curt nod that said to go ahead.

Sam sighed in relief. “Have you killed anybody?” he asked.

Wesley’s answer was immediate. “No.”

“Will you?”

“No.”

Dean scowled. “How do you know that?” he asked.

“I don’t kill.”

Dean shrugged. “Accidents happen. Mistakes. One night you let your anger get away from you, go too far. You don’t know if you’re telling the truth. You can’t.”

Wesley’s eyebrows lifted. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.

Dean gulped, his face paling ever so slightly. Before he could respond I stepped forward, giving Dean a warning look.

“Why do you do this?” I asked. “The whole vigilante thing. Why?”

“Why do you hunt?” asked Wesley. “The same reason. There are bad things out there, and the law isn’t always enough.”

I bit my lip and stepped back, somewhat afraid of the part of me that agreed with him. I traded looks with Cas, but for once I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“You’ve come here because I’m something that the law can’t handle,” pressed Wesley. “You’re taking matters into your own hands. How is that any different than what I do?” He paused for a moment, then continued. “Oh yes, that’s right. _I_ don’t kill. _You_ do. So when you think about it, who’s really the monster here?”

I gulped, backing away. The little voice in the back of my mind teasing the possibility that he was right was now screaming, and I just wanted it to shut up. Even Cas’s hand around my own didn’t quiet it, didn’t stop my heaving breaths. 

I retreated to a corner of the room with Sam, Dean, and Cas, and we put our heads together. I could see that all three of them were uneasy.

“He has a point,” said Sam. He shook his head, as though he couldn’t believe he had just said that. “I hate to admit it, but he does.”

I nodded silently, and Dean sighed. “So what do we do?” he asked.

“Hold on.” Cas stalked over to Wesley. “Do you plan on stopping?”

Wesley’s eyes burned as they locked with Cas’s, and for a moment my breath caught in hope.

“No.”

I nearly sagged against the wall in defeat as Cas returned to us with a sigh. Running a hand through my hair, I turned back to the boys.

“Now what?”

Dean shrugged. “No idea.”

For a few minutes we were all silent, each of us thinking the same thing. 

“Could we-” Sam said at last.

“No,” said Cas. He frowned, blue eyes troubled. “Possibly. Probably not. I don’t know.”

I sighed. We were going round and round in circles, and we still didn’t have a plan. I could feel Wesley watching us from the center of the room, still tied up. Suddenly all I could see in my head was the photo on his permit, blue eyes and awkward smile.

He was just a kid. He was a kid doing what he felt was right. Just like me when I’d first started hunting. Who was I to pass judgment on him?

I gasped out air. “I can’t,” I declared. I quickly lowered my voice, surprised at myself. “I can’t do it. I can’t kill him.”

The boys all studied my face, and I noted how they looked like they agreed. Slowly, each let their feelings take over, until they each nodded in agreement.

“Ok,” said Dean. He didn’t sound all that disappointed. He moved away from us, stalking back across the room to where Wesley was watching us.

“Here’s the deal,” he said. “We’re gonna let you go. But if you kill anyone, even one person, we’re gonna be back. You got it?”

Wesley nodded, and despite the cool outer shell he mostly managed to maintain, I could see a flash of relief behind his eyes. “Understood,” he snapped.

Dean nodded and flicked out his pocket knife, slitting the cords around Wesley’s wrists and ankles. Then, before Wesley could stand, Cas flew us out of the factory. 

We quickly gathered up our things in the apartment we’d held the stakeout in, then drove back to the motel. We were all silent as we drove, and I could feel the turmoil in the car. 

This time Dean didn’t object to Cas and I sharing a room, and we took turns showering before collapsing on my bed together.

“Are you ok?” whispered Cas.

I bit my lip, unsure. “Yeah,” I said at last.

“Lucy.”

I sighed. “I just- did we make the right call, Cas? Are we gonna regret this?”

Cas sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “We can’t know what he’s going to do in the future. But I think it’s a good thing we gave him a chance.”

I nodded. Cas was right. But that didn’t mean I was sure about what we’d done. There was a part of me that was tempted to return to the factory, even though Wesley was long gone by now, and try to kill him. It would be easier. The safer thing to do.

The realization shocked me. When had I become so cold, so calculating?

“Sometimes I think I’m losing sight of the line,” I told Cas softly.

I knew Cas was frowning. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“The line. The point of no return. Sometimes I think I forget how far is too far. What if I’m getting too willing to kill?” I shifted position but didn’t look at Cas directly, afraid to meet his eyes. “What if I’m changing, becoming-”

“Becoming what?” There was a small laugh on Cas’s voice as he pulled my chin up so that I was looking at him. “Becoming evil? Lucy, I don’t think that’s possible.”

I frowned. “You don’t know that. You can’t.”

Cas smiled softly and kissed my nose. “I do,” he promised. “You forget Lucy, I’ve seen your soul. And despite your hatred of the sappiness of this statement, you have a beautiful soul.”

“Yeah, but how long has it been since you’ve seen my soul?” I asked. “I don’t get hurt that often.”

Cas shot me a disbelieving look. “You’re kidding me, right?”

I giggled despite myself, kissing Cas on the cheek. Then I sighed, dropping back down to sprawl across his chest. 

“Just promise me you won’t let me become something I don’t want to be. If I start to get too dark, you have to stop me. No matter what.”

“It’s not going to come to that,” Cas said. He sounded deeply disturbed at just the possibility.

“Just promise me.”

Cas sighed. “Fine. I promise. If you ever become evil, which will never happen, I will find a way to stop you.”

“Even if it means killing me.”

Cas said nothing, but I could feel him tense beneath me.

“Cas.”

“I can’t promise that, Lucy.”

I propped myself onto my elbows. “You have to.”

Cas shook his head, deep blue eyes wide. “No. I won’t. Lucy.” He cupped my face in his hands. “It will never come to that. You would never become something that needed killing. Love, you had the power of god running through your veins, you could have done anything, and yet you saved an innocent soul from hell and locked away the demons. Even when you were filled with the minds of thousands of angels, each without any regard for love or joy or sorrow, you managed to retain your humanity. Your kindness. There is no way you could ever become so dark, so different from that.”

I bit my lip. “But what if I could?”

Cas sighed and drew me against his chest, tucking my head under his chin. “I won’t let that happen,” he promised. “And neither will you.”

I sighed. He wasn’t going to promise what I wanted. I knew it. Maybe I could get Sam or Dean to promise.

Yeah, that wasn’t likely to happen either. They were all too pig headed.

I pushed that out of my head. Cas had promised that he’d do his best to keep me from turning evil. That, I supposed, was all I could ask for at that point. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to needing anything more.

“Ok,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

Cas squeezed his arms around me in a hug. “Goodnight Lucy.”

“Goodnight.”

Cas turned off the light to the motel room, plunging us into darkness. Neither of us slept though, wrapped up in our own stormy thoughts of the future.


	6. Does Working a Case at a College Count as Attending?

“Look at them,” I chuckled. “It’s chaos.”

In front of me both Sam and Dean nodded in agreement. 

“I don’t know what’s worse,” said Dean. “What’s going on over there or the roads. Don’t any of these kids know how to drive?”

His question was answered as a tan Sudan veered by the impala, inches away from taking off our side mirror. Dean cursed and yelled some unkind words to the driver, who had by now sped off into the parking lot we had pulled over near. 

“Can we maybe find a place to park,” suggested Sam. “Somewhere where we won’t be run down if we decide to get out of the car.”

Dean sighed and navigated the impala into the parking lot. Five minutes and several races later, we finally managed to beat the other contestants to one of the few spaces left.

“Wow,” I said as I climbed out of the car. “Is it like this every year?”

Dean and I both looked to Sam, who nodded. 

“Yep.”

“So why did we have to come today?” asked Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he said. “Office of admissions is this way.”

He started up through the parking lot and Dean and I followed. As we walked I surveyed the scene before us.

It was moving in day at college. We were at a little campus in New Jersey, perched on a pretty little hillside on the outskirts of the forest. Ringing around the campus was an entourage of trees, and several more dotted the uphill climb to the office of admissions. I would have thought the place pretty if it wasn’t for the fact that it was _Jersey_. I suppose I was still a New Yorker in my gut, because I felt like I was committing some sort of sin just by admiring the campus. New Yorkers don’t admire Jersey. We shun it.

I pushed my inner condemnations away, focusing on not getting trampled by the hordes of college students bustling all over the place. They were busy bringing furniture and books up to their dorm rooms- though a lot of them didn’t even seem sure where their dorms were. Parents were hugging their kids, who were itching to run off to find their friends. At least the upperclassmen were. The freshmen were crying about as much as their parents.

We made our way to the office of admissions, and I hung back while Sam and Dean approached the front clerk. She was an aging woman in a flowered blouse who looked like she was already dying to flee work. As Sam and Dean sauntered up to her, both dressed in suits and baring their fake badges, she did her best to suppress a scowl. She couldn’t quite manage.

“Hello,” said Dean. “I’m detective Blake; this is my partner detective Simmons. We were hoping to ask you some questions about a former student here; Alexandria Whittaker.”

Surprise flickered across the secretary’s face. “What do you want to know about her for?” she asked. “That girl’s been dead for months. The police closed her case.”

“We’d like to reopen it,” said Sam.

The secretary nodded, and something flashed through her eyes. “What’s gotten the FBI interested?” Her gaze swept to where the boys had just reattached their badges to their belts, then back up to their faces.

I left Sam and Dean to work out an explanation, slipping down the hall. Luckily the secretary paid me no attention, probably thinking I was hunting for a bathroom or something. Or maybe she’d just had her fill of stupid college kids for the day.

Soon I was in a storage room. Filing cabinets lined the walls, and I rolled my shoulders and set about searching them for Alexandria Whittaker’s file.

Alex, as she’d liked to be called, had grown up locally, living with her parents just inside town. She had been majoring in social welfare, wanting to help women and children coming from abusive homes. She had also been a prominent member of the debate club, several of the college’s humanitarian groups, and the rock climbing team. She had been liked by everyone, and as far as the boys and I had managed to dig up so far, there hadn’t been any tragedies in her life.

Which was why it had been so odd when Alex had been found dead in her car toward the end of her junior year, a bottle of stolen medicine clutched in her hand. This had been last year. Since then the police had ruled her death a suicide and allowed her family to bury her.

Normally, the boys and I wouldn’t have even heard of her, but two days ago the local cemetery’s caretaker had gone to mow the grass and found Alex’s plot dug up, her casket empty.

It took me a few minutes to find her file. I was lucky it was even there; the college seemed to be behind in updating its catalogs. I suspected another few days and Alex’s file would have been going through the shredder. As I finally located the proper folder amid the thousands of others, I let out a small smile of triumph. The digital stuff was great, but it took a few minutes for even Sam to hack, and it didn’t contain everything. The more detailed reports were kept in paper form. It seemed technology hadn’t completely booted the pen out of power yet.

I skimmed through the files, but didn’t find anything that stood out. Knowing I could be caught at any moment I slipped out of the room and back down the hallway. I passed a woman brandishing a fresh batch of files, likely containing information on the incoming freshmen, and did my best to not look guilty. Either I managed to look natural enough or the woman was just plain unobservant because I made it back to where Sam and Dean were still talking with the secretary without incident.

“Is there any chance we could see Miss Whittaker’s records?” asked Sam.

“Do you have a warrant?” asked the secretary.

“Uhh,” Dean floundered for a minute. “No. We were hoping that-”

“That what? I could make an exception?” The secretary scowled and picked up a pen and one of the many papers clotting her desk. “I don’t think so. You’ll have to go through the appropriate channels.”

Dean started to object, but Sam placed a hand on his arm. There was nothing they could do short of getting an actual warrant, and since they weren’t actually FBI that wasn’t likely to happen.

“Thank you for your help Mrs. Uh-” Sam floundered as he seemed to realize he didn’t have the secretary’s name.

She rolled her eyes. “Miss Carter,” she supplied coolly. 

“Right. Thank you Miss Carter. Have a nice day.” Sam promptly backed away from the desk, tugging on Dean’s sleeve to bring his brother with him. With a chuckle I followed, making sure to keep the file I held out of Miss Carter’s sight.

“Well that was a waste of time,” muttered Dean.

I smirked. “Not quite. I got the file.”

Dean’s mouth fell open. “You- what?”

I snickered and handed over the folder. “I snuck into the back while you were distracting the secretary. What did you think I was doing?”

Dean opened and closed his mouth several times, but didn’t respond. Sam and I laughed as we trailed our way back down the hill to the car.

* * * * *

We had barely been at the motel for ten minutes when Cas arrived, slipping in the door to the room Sam and Dean were sharing. Climbing onto the bed I had already settled on and bestowing me with a kiss, he finally glanced over to Sam and Dean.

“I went to the police station,” he told them. “Like you told me to. They didn’t have much information for us.”

Dean shrugged. “I doubted they would,” he said. “But it was worth a shot. What did they know?”

Cas sighed. “Alexandria Whittaker was found in her car at around three o’clock in the morning on the twenty fifth of May. Paramedics pronounced her dead at the scene, and an autopsy revealed it was due to a drug overdose. Her death was declared a suicide and the case was closed.”

“Great.” I rolled my head in a circle. “That’s about all we’ve got.”

“Something tells me it wasn’t a suicide,” said Sam. “If she’s come back as a ghost, it’s probably because her death was violent.”

“So someone murdered her,” elaborated Cas.

“But who?” asked Dean. “And why’s she only coming back now? Why hasn’t she been Caspering around all summer?”

The four of us traded looks, but none of us could come up with a plausible answer.

“And why are her bones missing then?” asked Cas. “If she’s come back as a ghost, her bones should still be buried.”

We all nodded in agreement.

“Which means someone dug her up,” said Sam.

“But who?” I frowned. “Who digs up a dead girl three months after she’s gone in the ground?”

“The same person who murdered her?” guessed Sam.

Dean frowned. “Are we sure we’re working our usual gig here?” he asked. “Are we sure this is anything supernatural?”

“Does it matter?” I asked. “Even if it’s not, whoever killed her got away with it. We’ve got a chance to bring them to justice.”

“Which doesn’t make sense,” added Cas. “Assuming the person who unburied her is the same person who killed her, why would they unbury her? The case was closed; no one even knew she was murdered. The disappearance of her body will only open up questions; it could lead the police to discover the truth. Why would the killer risk his or her secret like that?”

Again, none of us had an answer.

* * * * *

We spent the rest of the day digging through Alexandria Whittaker’s personal life, which mainly meant going through her social media pages. We ended up relocating to the local public library so that we had enough computers for all of us, working silently until the library closed. Once we were back at the motel we made plans to return the next day, then retired to our own rooms.

Cas and I curled up together, talking quietly. Eventually we faded into silence, and I simply rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady thump-thump of his heart.

“What’s wrong?” asked Cas several minutes later.

“Hmm?” I moved my head enough to look up at him, and found his sapphire eyes inches away from my brown eyes. His eyes were dark with worry, his mouth tilted ever so slightly downward in a frown.

“Something’s troubling you,” he murmured. “What is it?”

I frowned, only just realizing that there was something bugging me. I hadn’t even realized it before, but Cas’s inquisition brought my attention to the dark feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. I shifted position, mulling over myself. _What was troubling me?_

“Are you worried about something?” asked Cas.

I shook my head slowly. “No, that’s not it.”

“Upset?”

“I- possibly. That feels closer.”

Cas nodded against the top of my head. I could feel the puzzlement radiating off of him.

“Is it your family?” he guessed at last. “Are you missing them?”

“Yes.” I sighed; I would always miss my family. And while that did feel right up there with what was bothering me, I felt like there was something more this time. The question was, what?

I let my mind wander to upstate New York, wondering what the parallel version of me was doing right now. Probably pouring over homework or doing the dishes. Tossing jokes and stories around with my- her family.

That was when I realized. She wasn’t doing any of that. She was in college.

“Of course,” I breathed. “That’s it.”

“What?” Cas tapped my shoulder to get my attention, and I shifted so that I could see him while still lying comfortably.

“I should have started college this year,” I told him. I let out a short laugh at the thought; somehow I just couldn’t picture myself attending college. I wondered if it was because I couldn’t picture myself in any school besides my old high school or because I could no longer see myself doing anything with my life other than hunting. In the end I decided it no longer mattered.

But that didn’t make the aching feeling in my chest go away. In fact, now that I knew what had been bothering me the feeling only got worse, spreading throughout my torso.

Cas smoothed back my hair. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “I forget sometimes how hard this must be for you. Everything you’ve sacrificed…”

“Please.” I brushed aside his concern. “I knew what I was getting into from the first moment I saw you. I made my choice. You don’t have anything to feel sorry for.”

Cas nodded, but I could tell he didn’t believe me.

“I wonder what college I chose,” I mused. I sat up, biting my lip as I thought. “Do you think I stayed in New York?”

Cas shrugged, sitting up as well. “I don’t think you chose Jersey,” he quipped.

I scowled. Even the word Jersey set my teeth on edge.

I found my curiosity insatiable. I was dying to know what I had done with my life, what a normal life for me would have looked like. As though he realized this Cas vanished, and when he reappeared again he was holding Sam’s computer.

It didn’t take long to find my parallel self online. I had been keeping tabs on her over the past year and a half, just to make sure no monsters tracked my activities back to her. She had as of yet remained unaffected by my life, something I was eternally grateful for.

Luckily, it seemed all my social media passwords were the same in this universe as they had been in mine. I quickly started combing through her websites, until I found a very excited announcement of acceptance into Syracuse University’s business program.

There were pictures online of my dorm room too. They had been put up by my dad, the parallel version of him that is. It was a typical college dorm room; two beds, desks, and wardrobes. Her half of the room was decorated with pictures of family and friends, movie and TV show posters, and a few funny quotes that I guessed she had found online. The covers on the bed were a deep purple in color, dotted with bulging ruby red flowers. The parallel version of myself was already sitting on the center of the bed, a book in her hands and a broad grin on her face as she proudly modeled her new dorm room for the camera.

I had to ex out of the webpage as my eyes started to tear, and Cas rubbed my back soothingly. We both knew that while I had started to add several personal touches to my room back at the bunker it was still sparsely decorated in comparison to the dorm room inhabited by the parallel version of me. There were a few pictures of Sam, Dean, Cas, and I, as well as some posters Sam had bought me for Christmas the previous year. Dean had bought me a soft, light blue, fuzzy blanket for my bed, but other than that my room was bare. 

“Are you alright?” asked Cas.

I nodded, brushing roughly at my eyes. “Yeah.”

Cas apparently didn’t believe me, because he wrapped his arms around me and tugged me into his lap. I cuddled against him, letting his warm embrace rescue me from all the regrets that, despite my love for my new family, would always still be in the back of my mind.


	7. How To Be Basic

The next day we returned to the library. While Sam and Dean dug through Alexandria Whittaker’s social life I began to go through her school records, and Cas began investigating any associates of hers that we pointed in his direction. The first part of the morning he spent looking up her parents, both of whom still lived locally. Then he began looking up our next person of interest; Rebekkah Hurst.

From what the boys found on Alex’s multitude of social media pages, she and Rebekkah had been in a serious relationship. Seemingly half of Alex’s posts in the two years before she had died contained photos of her and Rebekkah, or updates on their relationship status.

Cas started uploading Rebekkah’s social media pages, and I paused in my own perusing to glance over his shoulder at the results. Rebekkah was an olive skinned girl with black hair and striking green eyes. In the picture I was viewing, her arm was wrapped around Alex’s slightly larger form, and her girlfriend’s pale skin and blonde hair contrasted with Rebekkah’s own appearance. Their eyes, however, were the same vivid shade of green.

“I’ve got nothing here,” I commented. I sighed at my files on Alex, both digital and physical. “She got good grades, was involved in school activities, and didn’t have any problems with behavior. At least none that are recorded.”

“What does that mean?” asked Cas.

I shrugged. “She might have done something and they let her slide on it if it was minor enough. Or she just might not have been caught.”

“Either is possible,” sighed Sam. 

“Why don’t you look into Rebekkah’s school records,” suggested Dean. “Cas, keep searching her social life.”

I nodded and began typing. A moment later I sat back with a frown.

“That’s going to be a problem,” I commented.

Sam, Dean, and Cas frowned and turned to me. 

“Why?” asked Sam.

“Her record isn’t in the system. She must have transferred to a different college after what happened with Alex. I’ve got no idea where she is now.”

I grimaced. This was a really inconvenient time for the college to update their records. Couldn’t they have waited until after we’d finished snooping around illegally?

“And her social media pages are vastly neglected,” added Cas. “She’s barely been online since Alexandria’s death.”

“Check out her family,” Dean ordered. “Maybe one of them put something about her online.”

I did that while Cas continued to root through Rebekkah’s abandoned social media accounts. It ended up taking me several minutes, but on her younger sister’s page I found a post about Rebekkah’s acceptance into a college on the other side of the state.

“She’s up north,” I noted. “I take it we’re going to see her?”

“Yeah.” Dean stood and stretched. “Sam and I will drive there. You two keep digging up things around here. Talk to people Alex knew, who knew her and Rebekkah. See if anything was off with them before Alex died. Keep going through social media too. See if you can find any friends that weren’t so nice.”

I nodded. “I know the drill,” I assured him. “We’ll stay busy.”

Dean nodded, and a moment later he and Sam had disappeared up one of the long rows of books.

I turned to Cas. “You keep looking here; I’ll go back to the school, see if I can get anyone to talk.”

Cas frowned. “How? You won’t pass as FBI.”

I shrugged, a smile toying at the corner of my mouth. “I’ll find a way.”

* * * * *

I found my targets clustered on the lawn outside one of the dorm buildings. A group of girls, all looking like they had been at the college for at least a year. They were sipping iced coffees from the Starbucks down the street and ogling the boys walking by, giggling and whispering to each other.

I paused not far off, gauging how I wanted to go about things. I had never been that popular in school; I’d been more concerned with getting good grades than I had been with being homecoming queen. These girls were clearly the opposite. They were the type who had made my childhood and the childhoods of countless other nerds hell.

Ignoring the disdain that rose in me, I put my mind to how I could approach them. With as little social skills as I had, I knew they would pick up on something being off straight away. 

**Hey Mia.** I chuckled to myself as I sent the text, imagining my friend’s confusion upon reading it. **I need some advice. How do I pretend to be one of the popular snooty girls that everyone secretly wants to punch so that I can get information out of them?**

I hit send and peered out from behind the tree I was standing behind, hoping Mia would respond quickly. Luck seemed to be with me, because it wasn’t long before I got a response.

**U no I’m one of those girls right?**

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Somehow I doubted Mia was bad enough that people wanted to punch her. But hey, at least she was honest.

**Plz?** I sent back.

**U owe me an explanation** , was Mia’s response. **First u need to be doing the same thing as them maybe dress a bit more like them that sort of stuff.**

It took me a moment to decipher the text talk we had slipped into using as we’d grown closer. Then I frowned and glanced down at my worn out clothes. **So no plaid?** I guessed.

**Lol not how u wear it.**

I sniffed but obliged, unbuttoning the bottom half of my shirt. Then I bunched it into two tails on either side of my body and tied them together over my stomach. I considered rolling up my tank top to expose my stomach as I knew most girls would do, but decided I didn’t need to go that far. At least I hoped not. 

Then I started down the street toward the Starbucks, typing my next text as I did. 

**Now wat?**

Talk to them. Mia was probably shaking her head on her end, laughing.

I scowled. **I’m not good at that.**

**Talk about whatever they’re talking about then change the subject to whatever ur trying to get info on. What is that btw?**

**Wat just start talking? I can’t just step into their conversation like tht.**

**Yes u can now wats the case about?**

**Spoilers. Thanx gtg.** I smiled as I stuffed my phone back into my pocket, mulling over Mia’s advice.

By the time I’d gotten my iced vanilla coffee and walked back up the street, I still wasn’t entirely confident in my ability to bullshit social skills. I needed the information for the case though, so with a grimace and a deep breath I sidled up behind the group.

They were busy staring at some kid fastening his bike to the rack outside the building. The girls were trying to stare without making it obvious that they were staring, and the guy was doing his best to show off his muscles as he snaked the bike chain around the tire and locked it in place. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“He’s hot,” I cooed. I slipped into place beside one of the girls at the edge, swirling my coffee around in my cup. Then I batted my eyes at the guy with the bike, and I could literally see his ego inflate ten sizes.

The girl next to me, a small red head with blue eyes, nodded vigorously. “All the guys we’ve seen coming out of the building today are.” A grin split her face as she thought of the show she’d been getting all morning. “College is gonna be good.”

I laughed. “Just don’t get knocked up,” I warned.

The girl shot me a weirded out look and turned away. I resisted the urge to curse, racking my brain for a way to undo my damage.

“My brother goes to here too,” I said. “He’s an upperclassman; on the football team. They’re having a party in a few days and he thinks he can get me invited.”

That did the trick. Suddenly every girl was staring at me with bright eyes, thinking they’d found their ticket into a house full of hot, drunk guys.

“Who’s your brother?” asked one of them. She was clearly the queen of the group, which was why I had avoided her when I’d first joined. Now she was fixing me with big brown eyes that poked out from under wavy black hair.

I shrugged and waved dismissively. “One of the few guys on the team who hasn’t gotten over the awkward teenage pimple stage. But he’s in with the right crowd, so that’s nice for me.”

The girls nodded in almost perfect unison. 

“What’s your name?” asked the queen of the group.

I smiled. “Piper. What about you guys?”

Queenie gestured to herself. “I’m Syd; this is Paige, Theresa, and Maja.” She pointed to each of her friends in turn. Paige was the redhead I’d been talking to. Theresa was a tall blonde who looked athletic enough to give me a run for my money, and Maja was a tiny little thing with pin straight hair cut in a pretty bob.

I gave a small wave. “Hey.” I took a deep breath, then jumped to why I was really there. “I just got here, so I’m still a bit unfamiliar with campus, but I heard someone killed herself last year. Do you guys know anything about that?”

My heart pounded as I asked the question. This was where the importance of who I had picked to get the information was important. I was sure some people wouldn’t want to talk about it, though disturbingly few, most likely. These girls lived and breathed gossip. I was counting on it to get me what I needed.

They didn’t disappoint. Syd glanced around, as if to check that no one was listening, then began to talk.

“You mean Alex Whittaker?” she asked. 

When I nodded Syd continued. 

“They found her in the back of her car. Apparently she OD’d.”

I frowned. “Apparently? You don’t think that’s true? Was she involved in that sort of stuff a lot?”

Syd shook her head. “No. She was one of those annoyingly perfect people. At least everyone thought. I heard she was having trouble with someone.”

“Who?” I did my best not to seem overly excited about the information. “Do you know?”

If the girls thought my interest odd they didn’t comment. 

“No one knows. But a few people caught her arguing on the phone with someone.”

“Her girlfriend?” I asked. “Rebekkah? Is there a chance Rebekkah did something to her?”

“Oh, no.” Theresa began shaking her head back and forth. “I don’t know who she was fighting with, but it wasn’t Rebekkah. Those two were totally in love. I think half the campus heard Rebekkah scream when she found her.”

I blanched. “What’re you talking about?”

Maja’s eyes widened. “Don’t you know? Rebekkah was the one who found her. They were supposed to meet up in the library to study, but Alex never showed. Rebekkah waited, then went to Alex’s house, cos Alex lived off campus. She wasn’t there, so Rebekkah came back to campus and I guess she decided to check if Alex’s car was in the lot and well, she found Alex.”

“Oh my god.” My hand flew up to cover my mouth, and I nearly dropped my coffee. Poor Rebekkah. No wonder she’d transferred schools. I couldn’t imagine finding someone I loved like that.

Memories of nightmares I’d had in the past about my family threatened in my mind, but I pushed them back. This wasn’t the time.

Theresa nodded. “Rebekkah went off the grid after that. She barely passed her finals, and then she disappeared. I heard she got sent to a mental hospital.”

“No.” Paige shook her head. “She just transferred schools. I’m telling you. She wasn’t that bad.”

The group seemed to have mixed reactions and started debating. I decided it was time to make my exit, and began to detach myself from the conversation. I was just edging away when Syd called me back, her phone in her hand.

“What’s your number?” she asked. “Let’s keep in touch.”

I nodded, pasting a false smile on my face. “Yeah, totally. 382-5968.”

“Great.” Syd shot me a bright smile. “See yah around.”

I waved and all but ran for it. Around the corner of the dorm building I whipped out my phone and called Sam.

“Hey,” I said. “You haven’t gotten to Rebekkah yet, have you?”

Sam snorted. “No. It’s gonna be another hour or so before we get there. Why? You find anything.”

“Yeah.” I quickly untied my shirt and refastened the buttons. “Apparently Alex was having problems with someone, but no one knows who. See if she told Rebekkah anything.”

“Got it.” There was a pause at the other end of the line. “How did you find that out?”

I groaned. “Don’t ask. Let me know what you find out; I’m gonna see if I can get any more information on my end.”

* * * * *

My next stop was Alex’s house. Alex had been a single child and both her parents worked, and since it was the middle of the day on a Tuesday, no one was home. I let myself into the house, then made my way to Alex’s old room. 

The walls were painted a pretty shade of blue, with photos of family and friends hung up. I started rifling through her drawers, under her mattress and bed, searching every typical hiding place. There was nothing. No notes or diaries, no clue that pointed to the identity of the person she’d been having trouble with. With a sigh I left the house and met Cas back at the library.

“I really wish Dean didn’t insist on driving everywhere,” I commented. “Now we’re stuck waiting on them to reach Rebekkah.”

Cas frowned as I plopped into a chair next to him. “You didn’t find out anything?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Oh, I found out something.” I relayed to him what I had discovered, and when Cas heard of how Rebekkah had found Alex he looked horrified.

“That must have been awful,” he choked out. “To find someone you love like that…”

I nodded sadly. My eyes drifted over to Cas, and as though we were suddenly thinking the same awful thoughts, we both lurched forward and wrapped each other in a hug.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised. “You’re stuck with me for a while yet, Angel Dust.”

Cas only squeezed me tighter against him. “And I will never leave you,” he promised. “I love you, Lucy.”

I smiled against his shoulder. “I love you too, Cas.”


End file.
